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WHEN Thomas Carlyle spoke of the eighteenth century as an 
age of "shams and windy sentimentalities," he might have 
added that the great feature of the century was a reaction 
against shams, and that the windy sentimentalities represented 
only some part of the reaction as it touched weak minds. 
Rousseau's notion that men were overcivilized whereas the 
most advanced nation upon earth is, at this day, barely half 
civilized and that we should go backwards instead of forwards, 
returning nearer to the state of primitive man, was expressed in 
England, before Rousseau was born, by Bernard Mandeville in 
his " Fable of the Bees." Impatience of dead form in a corrupt 
civilization led to the question, Whether such a world as men 
were living in could have been shaped by a just God or directed 
by wise Providence ? Man and Nature seemed to many faithful 
and earnest searchers through the darkness to answer to that 
question, No. Such honest scepticism, born of aspiration for 
the right and good, has been referred to in the Introduction to 
another volume of this Library, Butler's " Analogy of Religion, 
Natural and Revealed, to the Constitution and Course of 
Nature." We pass along one line of thought from Leibnitz's 
"Theodice'e" to Pope's "Essay on Man" and Butler's 
" Analogy " all books that sought to arm our reason against 
doubt. And we may pass also by another line of thought, attack- 
ing the wide-spread evil in life ; in Church and State and in society, 
and even in the home ; everywhere dead forms of dead authority, 
dead worship of conventions that had no more in them of live 
civilization than the tattoo of the savage ; we may pass by 
that line through books like Swift's " Gulliver's Travels," Gay's 
"Beggars' Opera," and more especially its sequel, "Polly," 
expressing the full strength of the conviction of wrong that must 
precede the struggle for a remedy. And so we come to " Can- 
dide " and " Rasselas," both published in the same year, 1759. 

Voltaire in " Candide," as Johnson in " Rasselas," expressed 
the despair of the time over the problem of man's life on earth. 
Voltaire mocked and Johnson mourned over the notion that 


this is the best possible world. Each taught the vanity of 
human wishes. Voltaire, with no glance beyond, ended the 
first part of " Candide " with a shrug of light-hearted despair ; 
every man has his bit work to do, his garden to dig, " he must 
take care of his garden." Johnson took good care of his garden, 
but in " Rasselas " his glance is ever across the waves of this 
life to the life beyond. He finds in time the schoolhouse for 

It must not be forgotten that these utterances in 1759 preceded 
by only thirty years the struggle of the French Revolution. That 
came upon many a young heart as endeavour prompted by an 
ardent hope to raise men by one great effort to the higher 
ground that we seek now to reach only by slow and patient 
climbing. There is no reason why, as men rise in civilization, 
they should not come to build their happiness on sure founda- 
tions, paying less heed to the " Lo here " and " Lo there," as 
they learn more surely that the kingdom of God is within them. 

Voltaire was about fifteen years older than Johnson ; for he 
was born in February 1694, and Johnson in September 1709. 
Voltaire was sixty-five years old when he published " Candide ; " 
Johnson fifty when, at the same time, he published " Rasselas." 
Voltaire died in May 1778, Johnson in December 1784 ; both 
were dead, therefore, at the time of the outburst of the French 

Voltaire was the third child of Francois Arouet, a rich notary. 
His mother died when he was five years old. His brother 
Armand, ten years older than himself, was drawn towards the 
Jansenists ; but he was himself placed in a school of the Jesuits 
the College Louis le Grand that was favoured by the nobility, 
among whose sons he could make friends for the future. He 
was a lively student, and when but eleven years old earned credit 
for his verse. He won the favour of Ninon 1'Enclos, who left 
him at her death, in 1705, two thousand livres to buy books with. 
Voltaire left the Jesuit school in 1711, with the credit of brilliant 
success as a student, and much literary skill. He passed into 
a law school that disgusted him, then turned to literature and 
wrote odes in 1712 and 1713; that of 1713 was " Sur les 
Malheurs du Temps." Then he began a tragedy on CEdipus. 
His father, to send him away from the temptation to rhyme and 
live idly, attached him as secretary to an ambassador to the 

But at the Hague he consoled himself by an increase of dis- 
sipation, and was sent back to Paris, where he had at first to 
hide from the wrath of his father. Then he allowed himself to 
be placed as clerk with a lawyer, but picked up friends among 
young poets, who became companions in his dissipation. In 1715 
his father placed Frangois-Marie Arouet under the care of M. de 
Caumartin, who had a father loud often in praise of Henri IV. 
Here he conceived the plan of his " Henriade," and of a history 


of the age of Louis XIV. He worked on at his " CEdipus," and 
resolved to give all energies to literature that were not occupied 
with dissipation. 

Louis XIV. died on the ist of September 1715, and soon 
afterwards young Arouet was made answerable for verses on 
the Regent. He was banished to Sully-sur-Loire, and found 
there so much idle pleasure that nothing, he said, was wanting 
to his enjoyment of the place except the liberty to leave it. As 
verses had caused his banishment, verses obtained his recall to 
Paris ; but a spy having fixed on him the writing of another 
satire on the Regency, he was arrested in May 1717, and sent 
to the Bastille. There he remained prisoner for a year, wrote 
the two first books of the " Henriade," and finished " CEdipus." 
It was when he left the Bastille that he changed his name to 
Voltaire. " I have been very unhappy," he said, " with the old 
name ; let me see whether I shall do better with the new." The 
first sign of improvement was the success of his " CEdipus," first 
acted in November 1718. He was now sought as a poet by 
the world of fashion. There was another banishment to Sully, 
much dissipation, much work with the pen. The "Henriade" 
was finished ; more plays were written and acted. In 1722, his 
father's death left Voltaire a fortune, and he received also a 
pension of two thousand livres from the King. Insulted by the 
Chevalier de Rohan, who caused him to be fallen upon and 
beaten, Voltaire challenged him, and was again locked up in the 
Bastille. The indignity and wrong thus suffered caused Voltaire, 
when set free, to ask for his passport to England. He came to 
England in August 1726. In England, in 1728, he published 
the "Henriade." In the spring of 1729 he returned to Paris. 
The mocking spirit in which he dealt with the religion of England 
in his " Lettres sur les Anglais " caused that book to be burned 
and his own liberty to be again in danger. He withdrew to 
Cirey, and wrote for Madame du Chatelet a " Traitd de Meta- 
physique." His literary energy remained unbroken ; his works 
multiplied. In 1740 he first met Frederick II. of Prussia. In 
1750, after many changes of life in France, he accepted the 
invitation of Frederick to live with him at his Court, with a large 
pension. But after three years at Potsdam, he escaped from 
his Majesty, and settled in France with a niece, Madame Denis. 
He had bought an estate at Tourney and another at Ferney. It 
was not until 1760 that he settled wholly upon his property at 
Ferney, and became the patriarch of the place. Ferney was the 
garden in which he worked, and he helped to transform the 
place from a poor hamlet into a town of thriving watchmakers. 
Wherever Voltaire went he spent energies freely for evil and for 
good. He could share in the false pleasures of life, well knowing 
their emptiness, and mock at vanity without finding in it 
vexation of spirit. Witty, not wise, he made just war upon all 
hypocrisies of life, but could not separate them from its truths. 


Samuel Johnson, born with a taint of scrofula that throughout 
life unfitted the physical frame for the uses of the mind within, 
born also to long struggle against poverty, achieved within 
himself that conquest over difficulty which is the problem of the 
race of man. 

Johnson's father was a bookseller in Lichfield, who died, little 
prosperous, when his son, aged 22, had struggled through a liberal 
education that had been hard to secure, and had included work 
at Pembroke College, Oxford, under conditions of almost abso- 
lute penury, and with depression of mind that sometimes made 
insanity seem very near. He struggled on, married, attempted 
in vain to earn his bread as a schoolmaster, was forced to live 
by his pen, and with a stout heart and humble trust in God bore 
toil and poverty, and infirmity of a body that had to be daily 
conquered to the uses of the soul. He lifted no voice of com- 
plaint ; said, " I hate a complainer." But he fought steadily in 
the battle that brings out those energies through use of which 
alone man can draw nearer to the life that is in God. 

As we toil on towards a higher civilization, the difficulties 
caused by our own yet imperfect sense of right will slowly pass 
away, and there will remain only the healthy battle against sur- 
rounding nature, with the contests of opinion through which God 
bids us use our energies for the securing of new power from new 
truth, contests of which the issues will be no longer obscured by 
anger and evil-speaking. Who would forego the use of energies 
by which alone man feels that he is made in the likeness of God, 
to become one of many creatures all born to attain one definite 
perfection ; to be as one cabbage in a cabbage garden, or one 
peach in the ripe crop upon a sunny wall ? All evils of life, 
wittily heaped together in "Candide," when they arise from 
man's fraud and wrong-doing are conquerable in long course of 
time; and conquest of them means that -advance of civilization 
towards which we have begun to labour in this century with 
more definite aims than heretofore. The struggle of the French 
Revolution to lift men at once above those grosser ills of life 
which pressed upon them in the eighteenth century, and wrung 
from them such books as " Candide " and " Rasselas," failed only 
in its immediate aim. Its highest hope is with us still, quickened 
though sobered by the failure of immediate attainment. A State 
can be no better than the citizens of which it is composed. Our 
labour now is not to mould States but make citizens. 

Voltaire, when in witty mockery he wrote " Candide," was 
a rich man owning two estates. Johnson, when he wrote 
"Rasselas" in humble faith, was very poor. His old mother 
had just died, and that he might have money to pay the little 
debts she left, and bury her, he wrote " Rasselas " in the evenings 
and nights of a single week. 

H. M. 
November 1884. 




C A N D I D E. 


Hoiv Candide ivas brought up in a magnificent castle ; and how he was 
driven from thence. 

IN the cour try of Westphalia, in the castle of the most noble 
baron of Thunder-ten-tronckh, lived a youth, whom nature 
had endowed with a most sweet disposition. His face was 
the true index of his mind. He had a solid judgment 
joined to the most unaffected simplicity ; and hence, I pre- 
sume, he had his name of Candide. The old servants of the 
house suspected him to have been the son of the baron's 
sister by a mighty good sort of a gentleman of the neigh- 
bourhood, whom that young lady refused to marry, because 
he could produce no more than threescore and eleven quar- 
terings in his arms, the rest of the genealogical tree belonging 
to the family having been lost through the injuries of time. 

The baron was one of the most powerful lords in West- 
phalia, for his castle had not only a gate, but even windows, 
and his great hall was hung with tapestry. He used to hunt 
with his mastiffs and spaniels instead of greyhounds ; his 
groom served him for huntsman, and the parson of the 
parish officiated as his grand almoner. He was called " My 


Lord " by all his people, and he never told a story but every 
one laughed at it 

My Lady Baroness weighed three hundred and fifty 
pounds, consequently was a person of no small considera- 
tion ; and then she did the honours of the house with a 
dignity that commanded universal respect. Her daughter 
was about seventeen years of age, fresh-coloured, comely, 
plump, and amiable. The baron's son seemed to be a 
youth in every respect worthy of the father he sprung from. 
Pangloss, the preceptor, was the oracle of the family, and 
little Candide listened to his instructions with all the sim- 
plicity natural to his age and disposition. 

Master Pangloss taught the metaphysico-theologo-cos- 
molo-nigology. He could prove to admiration that there is 
no effect without a cause, and in this best of all possible 
worlds the baron's castle was the most magnificent of all 
castles, and my lady the best of all possible baronesses. 

" It is demonstrable," said he, " that things cannot be 
otherwise than they are ; for as all things have been created 
for some end, they must necessarily be created for the 
best end. Observe, for instance, the nose is formed for 
spectacles ; therefore we wear spectacles. The legs are 
visibly designed for stockings; accordingly we wear stockings. 
Stones were made to be hewn and to construct castles ; 
therefore my lord has a magnificent castle ; for the geatest 
baron in the province ought to be the best lodged. Swine 
were intended to be eaten ; therefore we eat pork all the 
year round. And they who assert that everything is right , 
do not express themselves correctly ; they should say that 
everything is best" 

Candide listened attentively, and believed implicitly; for 
he thought Miss Cunegund excessively handsome, though 
he never had the courage to tell her so. He concluded 
that next to the happiness of being Baron of Thunder-ten- 
tronckh, the next was that of being Miss Cunegund, the 

CA^ 7 DIDE. I 3 

next that of seeing her every day, and the last that of hear- 
ing the doctrine of Master Pangloss, the greatest philosopher 
of the whole province, and consequently of the whole 

One day, when Miss Cunegund went to take a walk in a 
little neighbouring wood, which was called a park, she saw, 
through the bushes, the sage Doctor Pangloss giving a 
lecture in experimental philosophy to her mother's chamber- 
maid, a little brown wench, very pretty and very tractable. 

In her way back she happened to meet Candide. She 
blushed ; he blushed also. She wished him a good morning 
in a flattering tone ; he returned the salute without knowing 
what he said. The next day, as they were rising from 
dinner, Cunegund and Candide slipped behind the screen ; 
Miss dropped her handkerchief the young man picked it up. 
She innocently took hold of his hand, and he as innocently 
kissed hers with a warmth, a sensibility, a grace all very 
particular : their lips met ; their eyes sparkled ; their knees 
trembled ; their hands strayed. The baron chanced to 
come by ; he beheld the cause and effect, and without 
hesitation salutes Candide with some notable kicks on the 
rear, and drove him out of doors. Miss Cunegund, the 
tender, the lovely Miss Cunegund, fainted away, and, as 
soon she came to herself, the baroness boxed her ears. 
Thus a general consternation was spread over this most 
magnificent and most agreeable of all possible castles. 


What befell Candide among the Bulgarians. 

CANDIDE, thus driven out of this terrestrial paradise, rambled 
a long time without knowing where he went ; sometimes 
he raised his eyes, all bedewed with tears, towards heaven, 
and sometimes he cast a melancholy look towards the mag- 


nificent castle, where dwelt the fairest of young baronesses. 
He laid himself down to sleep in a furrow, heart-broken and 
supperless. The snow fell in great flakes, and in the morn- 
ing when he awoke, he was almost frozen to death ; how- 
ever, he made shift to crawl to the next town, which was 
called Walds-berghoff-trarbk-dikdorff, without a penny in his 
pocket, and half-dead with hunger and fatigue. He took up 
his stand at the door of an inn. He had not been long 
there, before two men dressed in blue fixed their eyes sted- 
fastly upon him. " Faith, comrade," said one of them to 
the other, "yonder is a well-made young fellow, and of the 
right size ; " upon which they made up to Candide, and with 
the greatest civility and politeness invited him to dine with 
them. " Gentlemen," replied Candide, with a most engaging 
modesty, " you do me much honour ; but upon my word I 
have no money." " Money, sir," said one of the blues to 
him, " young persons of your appearance and merit never 
pay anything why, are not you five feet five inches high ? " 
' Yes, gentlemen, that is really my size," replied he, with a 
low bow. " Come then, sir, sit down along with us ; we will 
not only pay your reckoning, but will never suffer such a 
clever young fellow as you to want money. Mankind were 
born to assist one another." " You are perfectly right, 
gentlemen," said Candide, " this is precisely the doctrine of 
Master Pangloss ; and I am convinced that everything is 
for the best." His generous companions next entreat him 
to accept of a few crowns, which he readily complies with, 
at the same time offering them his note for the payment, 
which they refuse, and sit down to table. " Have you not 

a great affection for " " O yes ; I have a great affection 

for the lovely Miss Cunegund." " Maybe so," replied one 
of the blues ; " but that is not the question. We ask you 
whether you have not a great affection for the King of the 
Bulgarians ?" " For the King of the Bulgarians ?" said Can- 
dide. " Oh, Lord ! not at all ; why, I never saw him in my life." 


"Is it possible ! Oh, he is a most charming king. Come, we 
must drink his health." " With all my heart, gentlemen," says 
Candide, and off he tosses his glass. " Bravo ! " cry the blues ; 
" you are now the support, the defender, the hero of the 
Bulgarians ; your fortune is made ; you are in the high road 
to glory." So saying, they handcuff him, and carry him 
away to the regiment. There he is made to wheel about to 
the right, to the left, to draw his rammer, to return his 
rammer, to present, to fire, to march ; and they give him 
thirty blows with a cane. The next day he performs his 
exercise a little better, and they give him but twenty. The 
day following he comes off with ten, and is looked upon as a 
young fellow of surprising genius by all his comrades. 

Candide was struck with amazement, and could not, for 
the soul of him, conceive how he came to be a hero. One 
fine spring morning he took it into his head to take a walk, 
and he marched straight forward, conceiving it to be a privi- 
lege of the human species, as well as of the brute creation, 
to make use of their legs how and when they pleased. He 
had not gone above two leagues when he was overtaken by 
four other heroes, six feet high, who bound him neck and 
heels, and carried him to a dungeon. A court-martial sat 
upon him, and he was asked which he liked best, either to 
run the gauntlet six-and-thirty times through the whole regi- 
ment, or to have his brains blown out with a dozen of 
musket-balls. In vain did he remonstrate with them, that the 
human will is free, and that he chose neither. They obliged 
him to make a choice, and he determined, in virtue of that 
divine gift called free-will, to run the gauntlet six-and-thirty 
times. He had gone through his discipline twice, and the 
regiment being composed of 2,000 men, they composed for 
him exactly 4,000 strokes, which laid bare all his muscles 
and nerves from the nape of his neck to his rump. As 
they were preparing to make him set out the third time, our 
young hero, unable to support it any longer, begged as a 

1 6 C AND IDE. 

favour they would be so obliging as to shoot him through 
the head. The favour being granted, a bandage was tied 
over his eyes, and he was made to kneel down. At that 
very instant his Bulgarian Majesty happening to pass by, 
made a stop, and inquired into the delinquent's crime, and 
being a prince of great penetration, he found, from what he 
heard of Candide, that he was a young metaphysician, 
entirely ignorant of the world ; and therefore, out of his 
great clemency, he condescended to pardon him, for which 
his name will be celebrated in every journal and in every 
age. A skilful surgeon made a cure of the flagellated 
Candide in three weeks, by means of emollient unguents 
prescribed by Dioscorides. His sores were now skinned 
over, and he was able to march, when the King of the Bul- 
garians gave battle to the King of the Abares. 


How Candide escaped from the Bulgarians, c.n.t what 
befell him afterwards. 

NEVER was anything so gallant, so well accoutred, so bril- 
liant, and so finely disposed as the two armies. The 
trumpets, fifes, hautboys, drums, and cannon made such 
harmony as never was heard in hell itself. The entertain- 
ment began by a discharge of cannon, which in the twink- 
ling of an eye laid flat about 6,000 men on each side. The 
musket bullets swept away, out of the best of all possible 
worlds, nine or ten thousand scoundrels that infected its 
surface. The bayonet was next the sufficient reason of the 
deaths of several thousands. The whole might amount to 
30,000 souls. Candide trembled like a philosopher, and 
concealed himself as well as he could during this heroic 

At length, while the two kings were causing " Te Deum " 


to be sung in each of their camps, Candida took a resolu- 
tion to go and reason somewhere else upon causes and 
effects. After passing over heaps of dead or dying men, 
the first place he came to was a neighbouring village in the 
Abarian territories, which had been burnt to the ground 
by the Bulgarians, agreeably to the laws of war. Here lay 
a number of old men covered with wounds, who beheld 
their wives dying with their throats cut, and hugging their 
children to their breasts, all stained with blood. There 
several young virgins, whose bodies had been ripped open, 
after they had satisfied the natural necessities of the Bulgarian 
heroes, breathed their last ; while others, half-burnt in the 
flames, begged to be despatched out of the world. The 
ground about them was covered with the brains, arms, and 
legs of dead men. 

Candide made all the haste he could to another village, 
which belonged to the Bulgarians, and there he found that 
the heroic Abares had acted the same tragedy. From thence, 
continuing to walk over palpitating limbs or through ruined 
buildings, at length he arrived beyond the theatre of war, 
with a little provision in his budget and Miss Cunegund's 
image in his heart. When he arrived in Holland, his pro- 
visions failed him ; but having heard that the inhabitants of 
that country were all rich and Christians, he made himself 
sure of being treated by them in the same manner as at 
the baron's castle, before he had been driven from thence 
through the power of Miss Cunegund's bright eyes. 

He asked charity of several grave-looking people, who 
one and all answered him, that if he continued to follow 
this trade, they would have him sent to the house of correc- 
tion, where he should be taught to get his bread. 

He next addressed himself to a person who was just come 
from haranguing a numerous assembly for a whole hour on 
the subject of charity. The orator, squinting at him under 
his broad-brimmed hat, asked him sternly what brought 

i8 C AND IDE. 

him thither, and whether he was for the good old cause ? 
"Sir," said Candide in a submissive manner, "I conceive 
there can be no effect without a cause ; everything is neces- 
sarily concatenated and arranged for the best. It was 
necessary that I should be banished the presence of Miss 
Cunegund ; that I should afterwards run the gauntlet ; and 
it is necessary I should beg my bread, till I am able to 
get it : all this could not have been otherwise." " Hark 
ye, friend," said the orator, " do you hold the Pope to be 
Antichrist ? " " Truly, I never heard anything about it," 
said Candide ; " but whether he is or not, I am in want of 
something to eat." " Thou deservest not to eat or to drink," 
replied the orator, ' ' wretch, monster that thou art ! Hence ! 
avoid my sight, nor ever come near me again while thou 
livest." The orator's wife happened to put her head out 
of the window at that instant, when, seeing a man who 
doubted whether the Pope was Antichrist, she discharged 

upon his head a chamber-pot full of . Good heavens ! 

to what excess does religious zeal transport the female 
kind ! 

A man who had never been christened, an honest Ana- 
baptist named James, was witness to the cruel and igno- 
minious treatment showed to one of his brethren, to a 
rational, two-footed, unfledged being. Moved with pity, he 
carried him to his own house, caused him to be cleaned, 
gave him meat and drink, and made him a present of two 
florins, at the same time proposing to instruct him in his 
own trade of weaving Persian silks, which are fabricated 
in Holland. Candide, penetrated with so much goodness, 
threw himself at his feet, crying, " Now I am convinced that 
my master Pangloss told me truth when he said that every- 
thing was for the best in this world; for I am infinitely 
more affected with your extraordinary generosity than with 
the inhumanity of that gentleman in the black coat, and his 
wife." The next day, as Candide was walking out, he met 


a beggar all covered with scabs, his eyes were sunk in his 
head, the end of his nose eaten off, his mouth drawn on 
one side, his teeth as black as a cloak, snuffling and cough- 
ing most violently, and every time he attempted to spit, out 
dropped a tooth. 


How Candide found his old Master Pangloss again, and 
what happened to them. 

CANDIDE, divided between compassion and horror, but giving 
way to the former, bestowed on this shocking figure the two 
florins which the honest Anabaptist James had just before 
given to him. The spectre looked at him very earnestly, 
shed tears, and threw his arms about his neck. Candide 
started back aghast. " Alas ! " said the one wretch to the 
other, " don't you know your dear Pangloss ? " " What do 
I hear? Is it you, my dear master you I behold in this 
piteous plight? What dreadful misfortune has befallen 
you ? What has made you leave the most magnificent and 
delightful of all castles ? What has become of Miss Cune- 
gund, the mirror of young ladies, and Nature's master- 
piece?" "Oh Lord!" cried Pangloss, "lam so weak I 
cannot stand ; " upon which Candide instantly led him to 
the Anabaptist's stable, and procured him something to 
eat. As soon as Pangloss had a little refreshed himself, 
Candide began to repeat his inquiries concerning Miss 
Cunegund. " She is dead," replied the other. " Dead ! " 
cried Candide, and immediately fainted away. His friend 
recovered him by the help of a little bad vinegar, which he 
found by chance in the stable. Candide opened his eyes, 
and again repeated, " Dead ! Is Miss Cunegund dead ? 
Ah, where is the best of worlds now ? But of what illness 
did she die ? Was it for grief upon seeing her father 


kick me out of his magnificent castle ? " " No," replied 
Pangloss. " Her body was ripped open by the Bulgarian 
soldiers after they had ravished her as much as it was pos- 
sible for damsel to be ravished. They knocked the baron 
her father on the head for attempting to defend her ; my 
lady her mother was cut in pieces ; my poor pupil was 
served just in the same manner as his sister; and as for the 
castle, they have not left one stone upon another. They 
have destroyed all the ducks and the sheep, the barns and 
the trees ; but we have had our revenge, for the Abares 
have done the very same thing in a neighbouring barony, 
which belonged to a Bulgarian lord." 

At hearing this, Candide fainted away a second time, 
but having come to himself again, he said all that it became 
him to say. He inquired into the cause and effect, as well 
as into the sufficing reason, that had reduced Pangloss to so 
miserable a condition. " Alas," replied the preceptor, " it 
was love ; love, the comfort of the human species ; love, the 
preserver of the universe the soul of all sensible beings ; 
love, tender love ! " " Alas," replied Candide, " I have had 
some knowledge of love myself, this sovereign of hearts, this 
soul of souls ; yet it never cost me more than a kiss and 
twenty kicks in the rear. But how could this beautiful 
cause produce in you so hideous an effect ? " 

Pangloss made answer in these terms : " Oh, my dear 
Candide, you must remember Pacquette, that pretty wench 
who waited on our noble baroness ; in her arms I tasted the 
pleasures of paradise, which produced these hell torments 
with which you see me devoured. She was infected with 
disease, and perhaps is since dead of it. She received this 
present of a learned cordelier, who derived it from the 
fountain-head. He was indebted for it to an old countess, 
who had it of a captain of horse, who had it of a mar- 
chioness, who had it of a page, the page had it of a Jesuit, 
who during his noviciate had it in a direct line from one of 

CANDfDE. 21 

the fellow-adventurers of Christopher Columbus. For my 
part, I shall give it to nobody. I am a dying man." 

"O sage Pangloss," cried Candide, "what a strange 
genealogy is this. Is not the devil the root of it ? " " Not 
at all," replied the great man ; " it was a thing unavoidable, 
a necessary ingredient in the best of worlds ; for if Columbus 
had riot caught in an island in America this disease, which 
is evidently opposite to the great end of nature, we should 
have had neither chocolate nor cochineal. It is also to be 
observed that, even to the present time, in this continent of 
ours, this malady, like our religious controversies, is peculiar 
to ourselves. The Turks, the Indians, the Persians, the 
Chinese, the Siamese, and the Japanese are entirely unac- 
quainted with it ; but there is a sufficing reason for them to 
know it in a few centuries. In the meantime, it is making 
prodigious havoc among us, especially in those armies com- 
posed of well-disciplined hirelings, who determine the fate 
of nations ; for we may safely affirm that, when an army of 
30,000 men fights another equal in number, there are about 
20,000 of them so diseased on each side." 

" Very surprising indeed," said Candide, " but you must 
get cured." " Lord help me ! how can I ? " said Pangloss. 
" My dear friend, I have not a penny in the world ; and you 
know one cannot be bled or have a glister without a fee," 

This last speech had its effect on Candide. He flew to 
the charitable Anabaptist James. He flung himself at his 
feet, and gave him so striking a picture of the miserable 
situation of his friend, that the good man, without any fur- 
ther hesitation, agreed to take Dr. Pangloss into his house 
and to pay for his cure. The cure was effected with only 
the loss of one eye and an ear. As he wrote a good hand 
and understood accounts tolerably well, the Anabaptist made 
him his bookkeeper. At the expiration of two months, 
being obliged to go to Lisbon about some mercantile affairs, 
he took the two philosophers with him in the same ship, 


Pangloss during the course of the voyage explained to him 
how everything was so constituted that it could not be 
better. James did not quite agree with him on this 
point. " Mankind," said he, " must in some things have 
deviated from their original innocence ; for they were not 
born wolves, and yet they worry one another like those beasts 
of prey. God never gave them twenty-four pounders nor 
bayonets, and yet they have made cannon and bayonets to 
destroy one another. To this account I might add not 
only bankruptcies, but the law which seizes on the effects of 
bankrupts, only to cheat the creditors." " All this was in- 
dispensably necessary," replied the one-eyed doctor ; " for 
private misfortunes are public benefits ; so that the more 
private misfortunes there are the greater is the general good." 
While he was arguing in this manner the sky was overcast, 
the winds blew from the four quarters of the compass, and 
the ship was assailed by a most terrible tempest within sight 
of the port of Lisbon. 


A Tempest, a Shipwreck, an Earthquake, and what else befell 
Dr. Pangloss, Candide, and James the Anabaptist. 

ONE-HALF of the passengers, weakened and half- dead with 
the inconceivable anxiety and sickness which the rolling of 
a vessel at sea occasions through the whole human frame, 
were lost to all sense of the danger that surrounded them. 
The other made loud outcries, or betook themselves to their 
prayers. The sails were blown into shivers, and the masts 
were brought by the board. The vessel was a perfect wreck. 
Every one was busily employed, but nobody could be either 
heard or obeyed. The Anabaptist, being upon deck, lent a 
helping hand as well as the rest, when a brutish sailor gave 
him a blow and laid him speechless ; but with the violence 

C AND IDE. 23 

of the blow the tar himself tumbled head-foremost overboard, 
and fell upon a piece of the broken mast, which he imme- 
diately grasped. Honest James, forgetting the injury he had 
so lately received from him, flew to his assistance, and with 
great difficulty hauled him in again, but in the attempt was, 
by a sudden jerk of the ship, thrown overboard himself, in 
sight of the very fellow whom he had risked his life to save, 
and who took not the least notice of him in this distress. 
Candide, who beheld all that passed, and saw his benefactor 
one moment rising above water and the next swallowed 
up by the merciless waves, was preparing to jump after him ; 
but was prevented by the philosopher Pangloss, who demon- 
strated to him that the coast of Lisbon had been made on 
purpose for the Anabaptist to be drowned there. While he 
was proving his argument a priori, the ship foundered, and 
the whole crew perished, except Pangloss, Candide, and the 
sailor who had been the means of drowning the good Ana- 
baptist. The villain swam ashore, but Pangloss and Can- 
dide got to land upon a plank. 

As soon as they had recovered themselves from their sur- 
prise and fatigue, they walked towards Lisbon. With what 
little money they had left they thought to save themselves 
from starving after having escaped drowning. 

Scarce had they done lamenting the loss of their benefactor 
and set foot in the city, when they perceived the earth to 
tremble under their feet, and the sea, swelling and foaming 
in the harbour, dash in pieces the vessels that were riding at 
an anchor. Large sheets of flame and cinders covered the 
streets and public places. The houses tottered, and were 
tumbled topsy-turvy, even to their foundations, which were 
themselves destroyed ; and thirty thousand inhabitants of 
both sexes, young and old, were buried beneath the ruins. 
The sailor, whistling and swearing, cried, "' Damn it, there's 
something to be got here ! " " What can be the ' sufficient 
reason ' of this phenomenon ? " said Pangloss. " It is 


certainly the Day of Judgment," said Candide. The sailor, 
defying death in the pursuit of plunder, rushed into the 
midst of the ruin, where he found some money, with which 
he got drunk, and after he had slept himself sober, he pur- 
chased the favours of the first good-natured wench that came 
in his way, amidst the ruins of demolished houses and the 
groans of half-buried and expiring persons. Pangloss pulled 
him by the sleeve : " Friend," said he, " this ^is not right ; 
you trespass against the universal reason, and have mistaken 
your time." " Death and 'ounds ! " answered the other, " I 
am a sailor and born at Batavia, and have trampled four 
times upon the crucifix in as many voyages to Japan ; you 
are come to a good hand with your universal reason" 

In the meantime, Candide, who had been wounded by 
some pieces of stone that fell from the houses, lay stretched 
in the street, almost covered with rubbish. " For God's 
sake," said he to Pangloss, " get me a little wine and oil ; I 
am dying." " This concussion of the earth is no new thing," 
replied Pangloss ; " the city of Lima in America experienced 
the same last year : the same cause, the same effect ; there 
is certainly a train of sulphur all the way underground from 
Lima to Lisbon." " Nothing more probable," said Candide ; 
" but for the love of God a little oil and wine." " Probable ! " 
replied the philosopher. " I maintain that the thing is 
demonstrable." Candide fainted away, and Pangloss fetched 
him some water from a neighbouring spring. 

The next day, in searching among the ruins, they found 
some eatables, with which they repaired their exhausted 
strength. After this they assisted the inhabitants in relieving 
the distressed and wounded. Some whom they had humanely 
assisted, gave them as good a dinner as could be expected 
under such terrible circumstances. The repast, indeed, was 
mournful, and the company moistened their bread with their 
tears; but Pangloss endeavoured to comfort them under 
this affliction by affirm ing that things could not be otherwise 


than they were : " for," said he, " all this is for the very 
best end, for if there is a volcano at Lisbon, it could be in 
no other spot ; for it is impossible but things should be as 
they are, for everything is for the best." 

By the side of the preceptor sat a little man dressed in 
black, who was one of the familiars of the Inquisition. 
This person, taking him up with great complaisance, said, 
" Possibly, my good sir, you do not believe in original sin ; 
for if everything is best, there could have been no such 
thing as the fall or punishment of men." 

" I humbly ask your excellency's pardon," answered 
Pangloss, still more politely ; " for the fall of man, and the 
curse consequent thereupon, necessarily entered into the 
system of the best of worlds." " That is as much as to say, 
sir," rejoined the familiar, "you do not believe in free-will." 
" Your excellency will be so good as to excuse me," said 
Pangloss ; " free-will is consistent with absolute necessity ; 
for it was necessary we should be free, for in that the 
will " 

Pangloss was in the midst of his proposition when the 
Inquisitor beckoned to his attendant to help him to a glass 
of port wine. 


How the Poriugtiese made a superb Auto da-fe to prei>ent any future 
Earthquakes, and how Candide underwent public flagellation. 

AFTER the earthquake, which had destroyed three-fourths 
of the city of Lisbon, the sages of that country could think 
of no means more effectual to preserve the kingdom from 
utter ruin than to entertain the people with an auto-da-fe, 
it having been decided by the University of Coimbra that 
the burning a few people alive by a slow fire, and with great 
ceremony, is an infallible secret to prevent earthquakes. 

26 C AND IDE. 

In consequence thereof, they had seized on a Biscayner 
for marrying his godmother, and on two Portuguese for 
taking out the bacon of a larder pullet they were eating ; 
after dinner, they came and secured Doctor Pangloss and 
his pupil Candide, the one for speaking his mind, and the 
other for seeming to approve what he had said. They 
were conducted to separate apartments, extremely cool, 
where they were never incommoded with the sun. Eight 
days afterwards they were each dressed in a san-benito, and 
their heads were adorned with paper mitres. The mitre 
and san-benito worn by Candide were painted with flames 
reversed, and with devils that had neither tails nor claws ; 
but Doctor Pangloss's devils had both tails and claws, and 
his flames were upright. In these habits they marched in 
procession, and heard a very pathetic sermon, which was 
followed by an anthem accompanied by bagpipes. Candide 
was flogged to some tune while the anthem was singing ; 
the Biscayner and the two men who would not eat bacon 
were burnt ; and Pangloss was hanged, which is not a common 
custom at these solemnities. The same day there was 
another earthquake, which made most dreadful havoc. 

Candide, amazed, terrified, confounded, astonished, all 
bloody and trembling from head to foot, said to himself, 
"If this is the best of all possible worlds, what are the 
others ? If I had only been whipped, I could have put up 
with it, as I did among the Bulgarians ; but, oh my dear 
Pangloss ! my beloved master ! thou greatest of philosophers ! 
that ever I should live to see thee hanged, without knowing 
for what ! O my dear Anabaptist, thou best of men, that 
it should be thy fate to be drowned in the very harbour ! 
O Miss Cunegund, you mirror of young ladies ! that it 
should be your fate to be ripped open ! " 

He was making the best of his way from the place where 
he had been preached to, whipped, absolved, and received 
benediction, when he was accosted by an old woman, who 
said to him, " Take courage, child, and follow me." 

C AND IDE. 27 


How the Old Woman took care of Candide, and /i<m> he found the Object 
of his Love. 

CANDIDE followed the old woman, though without taking 
courage, to a decayed house, where she gave him a pot of 
pomatum to anoint his sores, showed him a very neat bed 
with a suit of clothes hanging up by it, and set victuals and 
drink before him. " There," said she, " eat, drink, and 
sleep ; and may our Blessed Lady of Atocha, and the great 
St. Anthony of Padua, and the illustrious St. James of Com- 
postella, take you under their protection. I shall be back 
to-morrow." Candide, struck with amazement at what he 
had seen, at what he had suffered, and still more with the 
charity of the old woman, would have shown his acknow- 
ledgment by kissing her hand. " It is not my hand you 
ought to kiss," said the old woman ; " I shall be back to- 
morrow. Anoint your back, eat, and take your rest." 

Candide, notwithstanding so many disasters, ate and slept. 
The next morning the old woman brought him his break- 
fast, examined his back, and rubbed it herself with another 
ointment. She returned at the proper time and brought 
him his dinner, and at night she visited him again with his 
supper. The next day she observed the same ceremonies. 
" Who are you ? " said Candide to her. " What God has 
inspired you with so much goodness ? What return can I 
make you for this charitable assistance ? " The good old 
beldame kept a profound silence. In the evening she re- 
turned, but without his supper. " Come along with me," 
said she, " but do not speak a word." She took him under 
her arm, and walked with him about a quarter of a mile into 
the country, till they came to a lonely house surrounded 
with moats and gardens. The old conductress knocked at 


a little door, which was immediately opened, and she 
showed him up a pair of back-stairs into a small but richly- 
furnished apartment. There she made him sit down on a 
brocaded sofa, shut the door upon him, and left him. 
Candide thought himself in a trance ; he looked upon his 
whole life hitherto as a frightful dream, and the present 
moment a very agreeable one. 

The old woman soon returned, supporting, with great 
difficulty, a young lady, who appeared scarce able to stand. 
She was of a majestic mien and stature, her dress was rich 
and glittering with diamonds, and her face was covered 
with a veil. " Take off that veil," said the old woman to 
Candide. The young man approaches, and with a trem- 
bling hand takes off her veil. What a happy moment ! 
What surprise ! He thought he beheld Miss Cunegund. 
He did behold her : it was she herself ! His strength fails 
him, he cannot utter a word, he falls at her feet. Cunegund 
faints upon the sofa. The old woman bedews them with 
spirits ; they recover ; they begin to speak. At first they 
could express themselves only in broken accents their 
questions and answers were alternately interrupted with 
sighs, tears, and exclamations. The old woman desired 
them to make less noise, and after this prudent admonition, 
left them together. " Good heavens ! " cried Candide, " is 
it you ? Is it Miss Cunegund I behold, and alive ? Do I 
find you again in Portugal? Then you have not been 
ravished? They did not rip you open, as the philo- 
sopher Pangloss informed me ? " " Indeed, but they did," 
replied Miss Cunegund ; " but these two accidents do not 
always prove mortal." " But were your father and mother 
killed?" "Alas!" answered she, . " it is but too true!" 
and she wept. "And your brother?" "And my brother 
also." " And how came you into Portugal ? And how did 
you know of my being here ? And by what strange adven- 
ture did you contrive to have me brought into this house ? 


And how " f ' I will tell you all," replied the lady ; " but 

first you must acquaint me with all that has befallen you 
since the innocent kiss you gave me, and the rude kicking 
you received in consequence of it." 

Candide, with the greatest submission, prepared to obey 
the commands of his fair mistress, and though he was still 
wrapt in amazement, though his voice was low and tremu- 
lous, though his back pained him, yet he gave her a most 
ingenious account of everything that had befallen him since 
the moment of their separation. Cunegund, with her eyes 
uplifted to heaven, shed tears when he related the death 
of the good Anabaptist James, and of Pangloss ; after which 
she thus related her adventures to Candide, who lost not one 
syllable she uttered, and seemed to devour her with his eyes 
all the time she was speaking. 


The History of Cunegund. 

" L WAS in bed and fast asleep when it pleased heaven to 
send the Bulgarians to our delightful castle of Thunder- ten- 
tronckh, where they murdered my father and brother, and 
cut my mother in pieces. A tall Bulgarian soldier, six feet 
high, perceiving that I had fainted away at this sight, 
attempted to ravish me. The operation brought me to my 
senses. I cried, I struggled, I bit, I scratched, I would 
have torn the tall Bulgarian's eyes out, not knowing that 
what had happened at my father' s castle was a customary 
thing. The brutal soldier, enraged at my resistance, gave 
me a cut in the left groin with his hanger, the mark of which 
I still carry." " Methinks I long to see it," said Candide, 
with all imaginable simplicity. " You shall,'' said Cune- 
gund ; " but let me proceed." " Pray do," replied Candide. 
She continued : " A Bulgarian captain came in, and saw 


me weltering in my blood, and the soldier still as busy 
as if no one had been present. The officer, enraged 
at the fellow's want of respect to him, killed him with 
one stroke of his sabre. This captain took care of me, 
had me cured, and carried me prisoner of war to his 
quarters. I washed what little linen he was master of, and 
dressed his victuals. He was very fond of me, that was 
certain ; neither can I deny that he was well-made, and had 
a white soft skin ; but he was very stupid, and knew nothing 
of philosophy. It might plainly be perceived that he had 
not been educated under Doctor Pangloss. In three 
months' time, having gamed away all his money, and being 
grown tired of me, he sold me to a Jew named Don 
Issachar, who traded to Holland and Portugal, and was 
passionately fond of women. This Jew showed me great 
kindness, in hopes to gain my favours ; but he never could 
prevail on me. A modest woman may be once outraged, 
but her virtue is greatly strengthened thereby. In order to 
make sure of me, he brought me to this country-house you 
now see. I had hitherto believed that nothing could equal 
the beauty of the castle of Thunder-ten-tronckh, but I found 
I was mistaken. 

" The Grand Inquisitor saw me one day at mass, ogled me 
all the time of service, and when it was over sent to let me 
know he wanted to speak with me about some private busi- 
ness. I was conducted to his palace, where I told him all 
my story. He represented to me how much it was beneath 
a person of my birth to belong to a circumcised Israelite. 
He caused a proposal to be made to Don Issachar, that he 
should resign me to his lordship. Don Issachar, being the 
court banker and a man of credit, was not easy to be pre- 
vailed upon. His lordship threatened him with an auto- 
da-fe ; in short, my Jew was frightened into a composition, 
and it was agreed between them that the house and myself 
should belong to both in common ; that the Jew should 


have Monday, Wednesday, and the Sabbath to himself, and 
the Inquisitor the other four days of the week. This agree- 
ment has subsisted almost six months, but not without several 
contests whether the space from Saturday night to Sunday 
morning belonged to the old or the new law. For my part, 
I have hitherto withstood them both, and truly I believe that 
this is the very reason why they are both so fond of me. 

" At length, to turn aside the scourge of earthquakes, and 
to intimidate Don Issachar, my Lord Inquisitor was pleased 
to celebrate an auto-da-fe. He did me the honour to 
invite me to the ceremony. I had a very good seat ; and 
refreshments of all kinds were offered the ladies between 
mass and the execution. I was dreadfully shocked at the 
burning the two Jews and the honest Biscayner who 
married his godmother ; but how great was my surprise, my 
consternation, and concern, when I beheld a figure so like 
Pangloss, dressed in a san-benito and mitre ! I rubbed my 
eyes, I looked at him attentively. I saw him hanged, and 
I fainted away. Scarce had I recovered my senses when I 
beheld you, stark naked : this was the height of horror, 
grief, and despair. I must confess to you for a truth, that 
your skin is far whiter and more blooming than that of the 
Bulgarian captain. This spectacle worked me up to a pitch 
of distraction. I screamed out, and would have said, ' Hold, 
barbarians ! ' but my voice failed me ; and indeed my cries 
would have signified nothing. After you had been severely 
whipped, ' How is it possible,' said I to myself, ' that the 
lovely Candide and the sage Pangloss should be at Lisbon, 
the one to receive an hundred lashes, and the other to be 
hanged, by order of my Lord Inquisitor, of whom I am so 
great a favourite ? ' Pangloss deceived me most cruelly in 
saying that everything is fittest and best. 

" Thus agitated and perplexed, now distracted and lost, 
now half- dead with grief, I revolved in my mind the murder 
of my father, mother, and brother, committed before my 


eyes ; the indolence of the rascally Bulgarian soldier ; the 
wound he gave me in the groin ; my servitude ; my being a 
cook wench to my Bulgarian captain ; my subjection to the 
dirty Jew and my cruel Inquisitor ; the hanging of Doctor 
Pangloss ; the Miserere sung while you were whipping ; and 
particularly the kiss I gave you behind the screen the last 
day I ever beheld you. I returned thanks to God for 
having brought you to the place where I was after so many 
trials. I charged the old woman who attends me to bring 
you hither as soon as was convenient. She has punctually 
executed my orders, and I now enjoy the inexpressible 
satisfaction of seeing you, hearing you, and speaking to you. 
But you must certainly be half-dead with hunger ; I myself 
have a great inclination to eat ; and so let us sit down to 

Upon this the two lovers immediately placed themselves 
at table, and after having supped, they returned to seat 
themselves again on the magnificent sofa already mentioned, 
where they were in amorous dalliance when Signor Don 
Issachar, one of the masters of the house, entered unex- 
pectedly. It was the Sabbath-day, and he came to enjoy 
his privilege, and sigh forth his passion at the feet of the 
fair Cunegund. 


What happened to Cunegund, Candide, the Grand Inquisitor, 
and the Jkw. 

THIS same Issachar was the most choleric little Hebrew 
that had ever been in Israel since the captivity of Babylon. 
"What, then," said he, " thou Galilean wretch? The 
Inquisitor was not enough for thee, but this rascal must 
come in for a share with me ! " In uttering these words he 
drew out a long poignard which he always carried about with 
him, and never dreaming that his adversary had any arms, 


he attacked him most furiously ; but our honest Westphalian 
had received a handsome s\vord of the old woman with the 
suit of clothes. Candide draws his rapier, and though he 
was the most gentle, sweet-tempered young man breathing, 
he whips it into the Israelite, and lays him sprawling on the 
floor at the fair Cunegund's feet. 

"Holy Virgin!" cried she, "what will become of us? 
A man killed in my apartment ! If the peace officers come 
we are undone." " Had not Pangloss been hanged," replied 
Candide. " he would have given us most excellent advice 
in this emergency, for he was a profound philosopher. But 
since he is not here, let us consult the old woman." She 
was very understanding, and was beginning to give her 
advice, when another door opened on a sudden. It was 
now one o'clock in the morning, and of course the beginning 
of Sunday, which, by agreement, fell to the lot of my Lord 
Inquisitor. Entering, he discovers the flagellated Candide, 
with his drawn sword in his hand, a dead body stretched on 
the floor, Cunegund frightened out of her wits, and the old 
woman giving advice. 

At that very moment a sudden thought came into Can- 
dide's head. " If this holy man," thought he, " should call 
assistance, I shall most undoubtedly be consigned to the 
flames, and Miss Cunegund may perhaps meet with no better 
treatment. Besides, he was the cause of my being so cruelly 
whipped ; he is my rival ; and as I have now begun to dip 
my hands in blood, I will kill away, for there is no time to 
hesitate." This whole train of reasoning was clear and in- 
stantaneous ; so that, without giving time to the Inquisitor 
to recover from his surprise, he ran him through the body, 
and laid him by the side of the Jew. " Good God ! " cries 
Cunegund, " here's another fine piece of work ! Now there 
can be no mercy for us ; we are excommunicated to all the 
devils in hell ; our last hour has come ! But how in the name 
of wonder could you, who are of so mild a temper, despatch 


a Jew and Inquisitor in two minutes' time ? " " Beau- 
tiful miss," answered Candide, " when a man is in love, is 
jealous, and has been flogged by the Inquisition, he becomes 
lost to all reflection." 

The old woman then put in her word. " There are three 
Andalusian horses in the stable," said she, " with as many 
bridles and saddles. Let the brave Candide get them 
ready ; madame has a parcel of moidores and jewels. 
Let us mount immediately, though I have only one side 
to sit upon. Let us set out for Cadiz ; it is the finest 
weather in the world, and there is great pleasure in travel- 
ling in the cool of the night." 

Candide, without any further hesitation, saddles the three 
horses ; and Miss Cunegund, the old woman, and he set 
out, and travelled thirty miles without once baiting. While 
they were making the best of their way, the Holy Brother- 
hood entered the house. My lord the Inquisitor was interred 
in a magnificent manner ; and Master Issachar's body was 
thrown upon a dunghill. 

Candide, Cunegunde, and the old woman had by this 
time reached the little town of Avecina, in the midst of the 
mountains of Sierra Morena, and were engaged in the fol- 
lowing conversation in an inn where they had taken up their 


In what distress Candide, Cunegund, and the Old Woman arrive at 
Cadiz; and of their Embarkation. 

" WHO could it be that has robbed me of my moidores and 
jewels ? " exclaimed Miss Cunegund, all bathed in tears. 
" How shall we live ? what shall we do ? where shall I find 
Inquisitors and Jews who can give me more ? " " Alas ! " 
said the old woman, " I have a shrewd suspicion of a 
reverend Father Cordelier, who lay last night in the same inn 


with us at Badajoz. God forbid I should condemn anyone 
wrongfully, but he came into our room twice, and he set off 
in the morning long before us." " Alas ! " said Candide, 
' Pangloss has often demonstrated to me that the goods of 
this world are common to all men, and that every one has 
an equal right to the enjoyment of them ; but according to 
these principles, the Cordelier ought to have left us enough 
to carry us to the end of our journey. Have you nothing 
at all left, my dear Miss Cunegund? " "Not a sous," re- 
plied she. " What is to be done, then ? " said Candide. 
" Sell one of the horses," replied the old woman. " I will 
get behind Miss Cunegund, though I have only one side to 
ride on ; and we shall reach Cadiz, never fear." 

In the same inn there was a Benedictine friar, who bought 
the horse very cheap. Candide, Cunegund, and the old 
woman, after passing through Lucina, Chellas, and Letrixa, 
arrived at length at Cadiz. A fleet was then getting ready, 
and troops were assembling, in order to reduce the reverend 
father Jesuits of Paraguay, who were accused of having ex- 
cited one of the Indian tribes in the neighbourhood of the 
town of the Holy Sacrament to revolt against the kings of 
Spain and Portugal. Candide, having been in the Bulgarian 
service, performed the military exercise of that nation before 
the general of this little army with so intrepid an air, and with 
such agility and expedition, that he gave him the command 
of a company of foot. Being now made a captain, he em- 
barks with Miss Cunegund, the old woman, two valets, and 
the two Andalusian horses which had belonged to the Grand 
Inquisitor of Portugal. 

During their voyage they amused themselves with many 
profound reasonings on poor Pangloss's philosophy. " We 
are now going into another world, and surely it must be 
there that everything is best ; for I must confess that we have 
had some little reason to complain of what passes m ours, both 
as to the physical and moral part. Though I have a sincere 

B 2 


love for you," said Miss Cunegund, " yet I still shudder at 
the reflection of what I have seen and experienced." " All 
will be well," replied Candide. " The sea of this new world 
is already better than our European seas ; it is smoother, and 
the winds blow more regularly." " God grant it," said 
Cunegund. " But I have met with such terrible treatment 
in this that I have almost lost all hopes of a better." 
" What murmuring and complaining is here indeed ! " cried 
the old woman. " If you had suffered half what I have done 
there might be some reason for it." Miss Cunegund could 
scarce refrain laughing at the good old woman, and thought 
it droll enough to pretend to a greater share of misfortunes 
than herself. " Alas ! my good dame," said she, " unless 
you had been ravished by two Bulgarians, had received two 
deep wounds in your body, had seen two of your own castles 
demolished, had lost two fathers and two mothers, and seen 
both of them barbarously murdered before your eyes, and, 
to sum up all, had two lovers whipped at an auto-da-fe, 
I cannot see how you could be more unfortunate than I. 
Add to this, though born a baroness, and bearing seventy- 
two quarterings, I have been reduced to a cook-wench." 
" Miss," replied the old woman, " you do not know my 
family as yet ; but if I were to show you everything, you 
would not talk in this manner, but suspend your judgment." 
This speech raised a high curiosity in Candide and 
gund, and the old Avoman continued as follows. 


The History of the Old Woman. 

" I HAVE not always been blear eyed ; my nose did not 
always touch my chin ; nor was I always a servant. You 
must know that I am the daughter of Pope Urban X. and 
of the Princess of Palestrina. To the age of fourteen I was 


brought up in a castle, to which all the castles of the Ger- 
man barons would not have been fit for stabling, and one 
of my robes would have bought half the province of West- 
phalia. I grew up, and improved in beauty, wit, and every 
graceful accomplishment ; and in the midst of pleasures, 
homage, and the highest expectations. I already began to 
inspire the men with love. My breast began to take its 
right form ; and such a breast white, firm, and formed like 
that of Venus of Medicis. My eyebrows were as black as 
jet ; and as for my eyes, they darted flames, and eclipsed 
the lustre of the stars, as I was told by the poets of our part 
of the world. My maids, when they dressed and undressed 
me, used to fall into an ecstasy in viewing me before and 
behind ; and all the men longed to be in their places. 

I was contracted to a sovereign prince of Massa Carara. 
Such a prince! as handsome as myself, sweet-tempered, 
agreeable, witty, and in love with me over head and ears. 
I loved him too, as our sex generally do for the first time, 
with rapture, transport, and idolatry. The nuptials were 
prepared with surprising pomp and magnificence ; the 
ceremony was attended with feasts, carousals, and burlettas : 
all Italy composed sonnets in my praise, though not one of 
them was tolerable. I was on the point of reaching the 
summit of bliss, when an old marchioness, who had been 
mistress to the prince my husband, invited him to drink 
chocolate. In less than two hours after he returned from 
the visit, he died of most terrible convulsions. But this is 
a mere trifle. My mother, distracted to the highest degree, 
and yet less afflicted than I, determined to absent herself 
for some time from so fatal a place. As she had a very fine 
estate in the neighbourhood of Gaieta, we embarked on 
board a galley, which was gilded like the high altar of St. 
Peter's at Rome. In our passage we were boarded by a 
Sallee rover. Our men defended themselves like true pope's 
soldiers ; they flung themselves upon their knees, laid down 

38 C AND IDE. 

their arms, and begged the corsair to give them absolution 
in articulo mortis. 

The Moors presently stripped us as bare as ever we were 
born. My mother, my maids of honour, and myself, were 
served all in the same manner. It is amazing how quick 
these gentry are at undressing people. But what surprised 
me most was, that they thrust their fingers into every 
part of our bodies that their fingers could in any way 
reach. I thought it a very strange kind of ceremony ; 
for thus we are generally apt to judge of things when 
we have not seen the world. I afterwards learnt that it 
was to discover if we had no diamonds concealed. This 
practice has been established time immemorial among those 
civilized nations that scour the seas. I was informed that 
the religious Knights of Malta never fail to make this search 
whenever any Moors of either sex fall into their hands. It 
is a part of the law of nations, from which they never 

I need not tell you how great a hardship it was for a 
young princess and her mother to be made slaves and 
carried to Morocco. You may easily imagine what we 
must have suffered on board a corsair. My mother was 
still extremely handsome, our maids of honour, and even 
our common waiting-women, had more charms than were 
to be found in all Africa. As to myself, I was enchanting ; I 
was beauty itself, and then I had my innocence. But, alas ! 
I did not retain it long ; this precious flower, which was 
reserved for the lovely prince of Massa Carara, was cropt 
by the captain of the Moorish vessel, who was a hideous 
negro, and thought he did me infinite honour. Indeed, 
both the Princess of Palestrina and myself must have had 
very strong constitutions to undergo all the hardships and 
violences we suffered till our arrival at Morocco. But I 
will not detain you any longer with such common things ; 
they are hardly worth mentioning. 


Upon our arrival at Morocco we found that kingdom 
bathed in blood. Fifty sons of the Emperor Muley Ishmael 
were each at the head of a party. This produced fifty civil 
wars of blacks against blacks, of tawnies against tawnies, and 
of mulattoes against mulattoes. In short, the whole empire 
was one continued scene of carcases. 

No sooner were we landed than a party of blacks, of a 
contrary faction to that of my captain, came to rob him of 
his booty. Next to the money and jewels we were the 
most valuable things he had. I was witness on this occasion 
to such a battle as you never beheld in your cold European 
climates. The northern nations have not that fermentation 
in their blood, nor that raging lust for women that is so 
common in Africa. The natives of Europe seem to have 
their veins filled with milk only ; but fire and vitrol circulate 
in those of the inhabitants of Mount Atlas and the neigh- 
bouring provinces. They fought with the fury of the lions, 
tigers, and serpents of their country, to know who should 
have us. A Moor seized my mother by the right arm, while 
my captain's lieutenant held her by the left ; another Moor 
laid hold of her by the right leg, and one of our corsairs 
held her by the other. In this manner were almost every 
one of our women dragged between four soldiers. My 
captain kept me concealed behind him, and with his drawn 
scymetar cut down every one who opposed him ; at length 
I saw all our Italian women and my mother mangled and 
torn in pieces by the monsters who contended for them. 
The captives, my companions, the Moors who took us, the 
soldiers, the sailors, the blacks, the whites, the mulattoes, 
and lastly my captain himself, were all slain, and I remained 
alone, expiring upon a heap of dead bodies. The like 
barbarous scenes were transacted every day over the whole 
country, which is an extent of three hundred leagues, and 
yet they never missed the five stated times of prayer en- 
joined by their prophet Mahomet. 


I disengaged myself with great difficulty from such a. he'ap 
of slaughtered bodies, and made a shift to crawl to a large 
orange tree that stood on the bank of a neighbouring rivulet, 
where I fell down exhausted with fatigue, and overwhelmed 
with horror, despair, and hunger. My senses being over- 
powered, I fell asleep, or rather seemed to be in a trance. 
Thus I lay in a state of weakness and insensibility, between 
life and death, when I felt myself pressed by something that 
moved up and down upon my body. This brought me to 
myself; I opened my eyes, and saw a pretty fair-faced man, 
who sighed, and muttered these words between his teeth : 
" O che sciagura d'essere senza coglioni ! " 


The Adventures of the Old Woman (continued}. 

ASTONISHED and delighted to hear my native language, and 
no less surprised at the young man's words, I told him that 
there were far greater misfortunes in the world than what he 
complained of. And to convince him of it, I gave him a 
short history of the horrible disasters that had befallen me ; 
and as soon as I had finished, fell into a swoon again. He 
carried me in his arms to a neighbouring cottage, where he 
had me put to bed, procured me something to eat, waited 
on me with the greatest attention, comforted me, caressed 
me, told me that he had never seen anything so perfectly 
beautiful as myself, and that he had never so much regretted 
the loss of what no one could restore to him. " I was born 
at Naples," said he, "where they caponize two or three 
thousand children every year ; several die of the operation ; 
some acquire voices far beyond the most tuneful of your 
ladies ; and others are sent to govern states and empires. 
I underwent this operation very happily, and was one of the 
singers in the Princess of Palestrina's chapel." "How," 
cried I, " in my mother's chapel ! " " The Princess of 


Palestrina, your mother !" cried he, bursting into a flood of 
tears. " Is it possible you should be the beautiful young 
princess whom I had the care of bringing up till she was six 
years old, and who at that tender age promised to be as fair 
as I now behold you ? " "I am the same," replied I. " My 
mother lies about a hundred yards from hence, cut in pieces, 
and buried under a heap of dead bodies." 

I then related to him all that had befallen me, and he, in 
return, acquainted me with all his adventures, and how he 
had been sent to the court of the King of Morocco by a 
Christian prince, to conclude a treaty with that monarch ; in 
consequence of which he was to be furnished with military 
stores and ships to enable him to destroy the commerce of 
other Christian governments. " I have executed my com- 
mission," said the eunuch ; " I am going to take shipping at 
Ceuta, and I'll take you along with me to Italy. ' Ma che 
sciagura d'essere senza coglioni ! ' ' : 

I thanked him with tears of joy; and instead of taking 
me with him into Italy, he carried me to Algiers, and sold 
me to the Dey of that province. I had not been long a 
slave, when the plague, which had made the tour of Africa, 
Asia, and Europe, broke out at Algiers with redoubled fury. 
You have seen an earthquake ; but tell me, miss, had you 
ever the plague ? " Never," answered the young baroness. 

If you ever had (continued the old woman) you would 
own an earthquake was a trifle to it. It is very common in 
Africa ; I was seized with it. Figure to yourself the distressed 
situation of the daughter of a pope, only fifteen years old, 
and who in less than three months had felt the miseries of 
poverty and slavery ; had been ravished almost every day ; 
had beheld her mother cut into four quarters ; had experi- 
enced the scourges of famine and war, and was now dying 
of the plague at Algiers. I did not, however, die of it ; but 
my eunuch and the Dey, and almost the whole seraglio of 
Algiers, were swept off, 


As soon as the first fury of this dreadful pestilence was 
over, a sale was made of the Dey's slaves. I was purchased 
by a merchant, who carried me to Tunis. This man sold 
me to another merchant, who sold me again to another at 
Tripoli; from Tripoli I was sold to Alexandria, from 
Alexandria to Smyrna, and from Smyrna to Constantinople. 
After many changes, I at length became the property of an 
aga of the janissaries, who, soon after I came into his pos- 
session, was ordered away to the defence of Asoph, then 
besieged by the Russians. 

The aga, being very fond of women, took his whole 
seraglio with him, and lodged us in a small fort, with two 
black eunuchs and twenty soldiers for our guard. Our army 
made a great slaughter among the Russians ; but they soon 
returned us the compliment. Asoph was taken by storm, 
and the enemy spared neither age, sex, nor condition, but 
put all to the sword, and laid the city in ashes. Our little 
fort alone held out they resolved to reduce us by famine. 
The twenty janissaries, who were left to defend it, had bound 
themselves by an oath never to surrender the place. Being 
reduced to the extremity of famine, they found themselves 
obliged to kill our two eunuchs, and eat them, rather than 
violate their oath. But this horrible repast soon failing them, 
they next determined to support the remains of life by 
devouring the women. 

We had a very pious and humane iman, who made them 
a most excellent sermon on this occasion, exhorting them 
not to kill us all at once ; " Only cut off one of the buttocks 
of each of those ladies," said he, " and you will fare extremely 
well ; if ye are still under the necessity of having recourse 
to the same expedient again, ye will find the like supply a 
few days hence. Heaven will approve of so charitable an 
action, and work your deliverance." 

By the force of this eloquence he easily persuaded them, 
and all underwent the operation. The imam applied the 

C AND WE. 43 

same balsam as they do to children after circumcision. We 
were all ready to give up the ghost. 

The janissaries had scarcely time to finish the repast with 
which we had supplied them, when the Russians attacked 
the place by means of flat-bottomed boats, and not a single 
janissary escaped. The Russians paid no regard to the con- 
dition we were in ; but as there are French surgeons in all 
parts of the world, a skilful operator took us under his care, 
and made a cure of us ; and I shall never forget while I 
live, that as soon as my wounds were perfectly healed he 
made me certain proposals. In general, he desired us all 
to have a good heart, assuring us that the like had happened 
in many sieges and that it was perfectly agreeable to the 
laws of war. 

As soon as my companions were in a condition to walk, 
they were sent to Moscow. As for me, I fell to the lot of a 
boyard, who put me to work in his garden, and gave me 
twenty lashes a day. But this nobleman having in about 
two years afterwards been broke alive upon the wheel, 
with about thirty others, for some court intrigues, I 
took advantage of the event, and made my escape. I 
travelled over great part of Russia. I was a long time an 
innkeeper's servant at Riga, then at Rostock, Wismar, 
Leipsick, Cassel, Utrecht, Leyden, the Hague, and Rotter- 
dam : I have grown old in misery and disgrace, living with 
only one buttock, and in the perpetual remembrance that 
I was a pope's daughter. I have been an hundred times 
upon the point of killing myself, but still was fond of life. 
This ridiculous weakness is perhaps one of the dangerous 
principles implanted in our nature. For what can be more 
absurd than to persist in carrying a burden of which we 
wish to be eased? to detest, and yet to strive to preserve 
our existence? In a word, to caress the serpent that 
devours us, and hug him close to our bosoms till he has 
gnawed into our hearts ? 


In the different countries which it has been' my fate to 
traverse, and the many inns where I have been a servant, I 
have observed a prodigious number of people who held 
their existence in abhorrence, and yet I never knew more 
than twelve who voluntarily put an end to their misery ; 
namely, three negroes, four Englishmen, as many Genoese, 
and a German professor named Robek. My last place 
was with the Jew, Don Issachar, who placed me near your 
person, my fair lady ; to whose fortunes I have attached my- 
self, and have been more affected to your misfortunes than 
my own. I should never have even mentioned the latter to 
you, had you not a little piqued me on the head of suffer- 
ings ; and if it was not customary to tell stories on board 
a ship in order to pass away the time. In short, my dear 
miss, I have a great deal of knowledge and experience in the 
world ; therefore take my advice divert yourself, and pre- 
vail upon each passenger to tell his story, and if there is one 
of them all that has not cursed his existence many times, 
and said to himself over and over again that he was the 
most wretched of mortals, I give you leave to throw me 
head-foremost into the sea. 


flow Candide was obliged to leave the fair Cunegund and the 
Old Woman. 

THE fair Cunegund, being thus made acquainted with the 
history of the old woman's life and adventures, paid her all 
the respect and civility due to a person of her rank and 
merit. She very readily came into her proposal of engaging 
every one of the passengers to relate their adventures in 
their turns, and was at length, as well as Candide, compelled 
to acknowledge that the old woman was in the right. " It 
is a thousand pities," said Candide, " that the sage Pangloss 


should have been hanged, contrary to the custom of an 
auto-da-fe, for he would have read us a most admirable 
lecture on the moral and physical evil which overspread the 
earth and sea ; and I think I should have courage enough to 
presume to offer, with all due respect, some few objections." 

While every one was reciting his adventures, the ship 
continued on her way, and at length arrived at Buenos 
Ayres, where Cunegund, Captain Candide, and the old 
woman landed, and went to wait upon the Governor, Don 
Fernando d'Ibaraa y Figueora y Mascarenes y Lampour- 
dos y Souza. This nobleman carried himself with a haughti- 
ness suitable to a person who bore so many names. He 
spoke with the most noble disdain to every one, carried his 
nose so high, strained his voice to such a pitch, assumed so 
imperious an air, and stalked with so much loftiness and 
pride, that every one who had the honour of conversing 
with him was violently tempted to bastinade his excel- 
lency. He was immoderately fond of women, and Miss 
Cunegund appeared in his eyes a paragon of beauty. The 
first thing he did was to ask her if she was not the captain's 
wife. The air with which he made this demand alarmed 
Candide, who did not dare to say he was married to her, 
because indeed he was not ; neither durst he say she was 
his sister, because she was not ; and though a lie of this 
nature proved of great service to one of the ancients, and 
might possibly be useful to some of the moderns, yet the 
purity of his heart would not permit him to violate the 
truth. " Miss Cunegund," replied he, " is to do me the 
iionour to marry me, and we humbly beseech your ex- 
cellency to condescend to grace the ceremony with your 

Don Fernando d'Ibaraa y Figueora y Mascarenes y Lam- 
pourdos y Souza, twirling his mustachio, and putting on a 
sarcastic smile, ordered Captain Candide to go and review 
his company. The gentle Candide obeyed, and the Governor 


was left with Miss Cunegund. He made her a strong de- 
claration of love, protesting that he was ready to give her 
his hand in the face of the Church, or otherwise, as should 
appear most agreeable to a young lady of her prodigious 
beauty. Cunegund desired leave to retire a quarter of an 
hour to consult the old woman, and determine how she 
should proceed. 

The old woman gave her the following counsel : " Miss, 
you have seventy-two quarterings in your arms, it is true, 
but you have not a penny to bless yourself with. It is your 
own fault if you are not wife to one of the greatest noble- 
men in South America, with an exceeding fine mustachio. 
What business have you to pride yourself upon an unshaken 
constancy ? You have been ravished by a Bulgarian soldier ; 
a Jew and an Inquisitor have both tasted of your favours. 
People take advantage of misfortunes. I must confess, were 
I in your place I should without the least scruple give my 
hand to the Governor, and thereby make the fortune of the 
brave Captain Candide." While the old woman was thus 
haranguing, with all the prudence that old age and experi- 
ence furnish, a small bark entered the harbour, in which 
was an alcayde and his alguazils. Matters had fallen out 
as follows : 

The old woman rightly guessed that the Cordelier with 
the long sleeves was the person who had taken Miss Cune- 
gund's money and jewels, while they and Candide were 
at Badajoz, in their flight from Lisbon. This same friar 
attempted to sell some of the diamonds to a jeweller, who 
presently knew them to have belonged to the Grand Inquisi- 
tor, and stopped them. The Cordelier, before he was hanged, 
acknowledged that he had stolen them, and described the 
persons and the road they had taken. The flight of Cune- 
gund and Candide was already the town talk. They sent in 
pursuit of them to Cadiz ; and the vessel which had been 
sent to make the greater despatch had now reached the port 


of Buenos Ayres. A report was spread that an alcayde was 
going to land, and that he was in pursuit of the murderers 
of my lord the Inquisitor. The sage old woman immediately 
saw what was to be done. " You cannot run away/' said 
she to Cunegund ; " but you have nothing to fear. It was 
not you who killed my Lord Inquisitor. Besides, as the 
Governor is in love with you, he will not suffer you to be ill- 
treated. Therefore stand your ground." Then hurrying 
away to Candide, " Begone," said she, " from hence this 
instant, or you will be burnt alive ! " Candide found there 
was no time to be lost. But how could he part from Cune- 
gund. and whither must he fly for shelter ? 


The reception Candide and Cacambo met with among the Jesuits 
in Paraguay. 

CANDIDE had brought with him from Cadiz such a footman 
as one often meets with on the coasts of Spain and in the 
colonies. He was the fourth part of a Spaniard, of a 
mongrel breed, and born in Tucuman. He had successfully 
gone through the profession of a singing boy, sexton, sailor, 
monk, pedlar, soldier, and lacquey. His name was 
Cacambo. He had a great affection for his master, because 
his master was a mighty good man. He immediately 
saddled the two Andalusian horses. " Come, my good 
master, let us follow the old woman's advice, and make all 
the haste we can from this place without staying to look 
behind us." Candide burst into a flood of tears : " Oh, my 
dear Cunegund, must I then be compelled to quit you just 
as the governor was going to honour us with his presence 
at our wedding ? Cunegund, so long lost and found again, 
what will now become of you ? " " Lord," said Cacambo, 
'' she must do as well as she can : women are never at a 


loss. God takes care of them, and so let us make the best 
of our way." " But whither wilt thou carry me ? Where 
can we go ? What can we do without Cunegund ? " cried 
the disconsolate Candide. " By St. James of Compostella," 
said Cacambo, " you were going to fight against the Jesuits 
of Paraguay ; now let us e'en go and fight for them. I 
know the road perfectly well ; I'll conduct you to their 
kingdom ; they will be delighted with a captain that under- 
stands the Bulgarian exercise ; you will certainly make a 
prodigious fortune. If we cannot find our account in this 
world we may in another. It is a great pleasure to see new 
objects and perform new exploits." 

" Then you have been to Paraguay," said Candide. " Ay, 
marry, have I," replied Cacambo. " I was a scout in the 
College of the Assumption, and am as well acquainted with 
the new government of Los Padres as I am with the streets 
of Cadiz. Oh, it is an admirable government, that is most 
certain ! The kingdom is at present upwards of three 
hundred leagues in diameter, and divided into thirty 
provinces ; the fathers are there masters of everything, and 
the people have no money at all. This you must allow is 
the masterpiece of justice and reason. For my part, I 
see nothing so divine as the good fathers, who wage war in 
this part of the world against the troops of Spain and 
Portugal, at the same time that they hear the confessions of 
those very princes in Europe ; who kill Spaniards in America, 
and send them to heaven at Madrid. This pleases me 
exceedingly; but let us push forward ; you are going to see 
the happiest and most fortunate of all mortals. How 
charmed will those fathers be to hear that a captain who 
understands the Bulgarian exercise is coming among them." 

As soon as they reached the first barrier, Cacambo called 
to the advance-guard, and told them that a captain wanted 
to speak to my lord the general. 'Notice was given to the 
main-guard, and immediately a Paraguayan officer ran to 


throw himself at the feet of the commandant, to impart this 
news to him. Candide and Cacambo were immediately 
disarmed, and their two Andalusian horses were seized. 
The two strangers are now conducted between two files of 
musketeers. The commandant was at the farther end with 
a three-cornered cap on his head, his gown tucked up, a 
sword by his side, and a half-pike in his hand. He made 
a sign, and instantly four-and-twenty soldiers drew up round 
the new-comers. A sergeant told them that they must wait, 
the commandant could not speak to them ; and that the 
reverend father provincial did not suffer any Spaniard to 
open his mouth but in his presence, or to stay above three 
hours in the province. "And where is the reverend father 
provincial ? " said Cacambo. " He is just come from mass, 
and is at the parade," replied the sergeant, " and in about 
three hours time you may possibly have the honour to kiss 
his spurs." " But," said Cacambo, " the captain, who as 
well as myself is perishing with hunger, is no Spaniard, but 
a German ; therefore, pray, might we not be permitted to 
break our fast till we can be introduced to his reverence ? " 

The serjeant immediately went and acquainted the com- 
mandant with what he heard. " God be praised," said the 
reverend commandant ; " since he is a German, I will hear 
what he has to say ; let him be brought to my arbour. 
Immediately they conducted Candide to a beautiful pavilion 
adorned with a colonnade of green marble spotted with 
yellow, and with an intertexture of vines, which served as a 
kind of cage for parrots, humming-birds, fly-birds, Guinea 
hens, and all other curious kinds of birds. An excellent 
breakfast was provided in vessels of gold, and while the 
Paraguayans were eating coarse Indian corn out of wooden 
dishes in the open air, and exposed to the burning heat of 
the sun, the reverend father commandant retired to his cool 

He was a very handsome young ma.n, round-faced, fair, 

50 CA^ 7 DIDE. 

and fresh-coloured, his eyebrows were finely arched, he had 
a piercing eye, the tips of his ears were red, his lips ver- 
milion, and he had a bold and commanding air ; but such 
a boldness as neither resembled that of a Spaniard nor of a 
Jesuit. He ordered Candide and Cacambo to have their arms 
restored to them, together with their two Andalusian horses. 
Cacambo gave the poor beasts some oats to eat close by the 
arbour, keeping a strict eye upon them all the while for fear 
of surprise. 

Candide having kissed the hem of the commandant's robe, 
they sat down to table. " It seems you are a German," says 
the Jesuit to him in that language. " Yes, reverend father," 
answered Candide. As they pronounced these words they 
looked at each other with great amazement, and with an 
emotion that neither could conceal. " From what part of 
Germany do you come ? " said the Jesuit. " From the dirty 
province of Westphalia," answered Candide. " I was born 
in the castle of Thunder-ten-tronckh." " Oh heavens ! is 
it possible ? " said the commandant. " What a miracle ! " 
cried Candide. " Can it be you ? " said the commandant. 
On this they both retired a few steps backwards, then 
running into each other's arms, embraced, and let fall a 
shower of tears. " Is it you, then, reverend father ? You 
are the brother of the fair Miss Cunegund ? you that were 
slain by the Bulgarians ! you the baron's son ! you a Jesuit 
in Paraguay ! I must confess this is a strange world we live 
in. O Pangloss ! Pangloss ! what joy would this have given 
you if you had not been hanged." 

The commandant dismissed the negro slaves and the 
Paraguayans, who presented them with liquor in crystal 
goblets. He returned thanks to God and St. Ignatius a 
thousand times; he clasped Candide in his arms, and both 
their faces were bathed in tears. " You will be more sur- 
prised, more affected, more transported," said Candide, 
" when I tell you that Miss Cunegund, your sister, whose 


body was supposed to have been ripped open, is in perfect 
health." " Where ? " " In your neighbourhood, with the 
governor of Buenos Ayres ; and I myself was going to fight 
against you." Every word they uttered during this long 
conversation was productive of some new matter of astonish- 
ment. Their souls fluttered on their tongues, listened in 
their ears, and sparkled in their eyes. Like true Germans, 
they continued a long while at table, waiting for the reverend 
father, and the commandant spoke to his dear Candide as 


HOT.V Candide killed the Brother of his dear Citnegund. 

" NEVER while I live shall I lose the remembrance of that 
horrible day on which I saw my father and brother barba- 
rously butchered before my eyes, and my sister ravished. 
When the Bulgarians retired, we searched in vain for my dear 
sister. She was nowhere to be found ; but the bodies of my 
father, mother, and myself, with two servant-maids and 
three little boys, all of whom had beer murdered by the 
remorseless enemy, were thrown into a cart to be buried in 
a chapel belonging to the Jesuits, within two leagues of our 
family seat. A Jesuit sprinkled us with some holy water, 
which was confoundedly salt, and a few drops of it went into 
my eyes. The father perceived that my eyelids stirred a 
little ; he put his hand upon my breast, and felt my heart 
beat, upon which he gave me proper assistance, and at the 
end of three weeks I was perfectly recovered. You know, 
my dear Candide, I was very handsome. I became still 
more so, and the reverend father Croust, superior of that 
house, took a great fancy to me. He gave me the habit of 
the order, and some years afterwards I was sent to Rome. 
Our general stood in need of new levies of young German 


Jesuits. The sovereigns of Paraguay admit of as few Spanish 
Jesuits as possible ; they prefer those of other nations, as 
being more obedient to command. The reverend father- 
general looked upon me as a proper person to work in that 
vineyard. I set out in company with a Polander and a 
Tyrolese. Upon my arrival I was honoured with a sub- 
deaconship and a lieutenancy. Now I am colonel and 
priest. We shall give a warm reception to the King of 
Spain's troops ; I can assure you they will be well excom- 
municated and beaten. Providence has sent you hither to 
assist us. But is it true that my dear sister Cunegund is in 
the neighbourhood with the governor of Buenos Ayres ? " 
Candide swore that nothing could be more true ; and the 
tears began again to trickle down their cheeks. 

The baron knew no end of embracing Candide ; he called 
him his brother, his deliverer. " Perhaps," said he, " my 
dear Candide, we shall be fortunate enough to enter the 
town sword in hand, and recover my sister Cunegund." 
"Ah! that would crown my wishes," replied Candide, "for 
I intended to marry her ; and I hope I shall still be able to 
effect it." " Insolent fellow ! " replied the baron. " You ! 
you have the impudence to marry my sister, who bears 
seventy-two quarterings ! Really I think you have an in- 
sufferable degree of assurance to dare so much as to mention 
such an audacious design to me." Candide, thunderstruck 
at the oddness of this speech, answered : " Reverend father, 
all the quarterings in the world are of no signification. I 
have delivered your sister from a Jew and an Inquisitor ; she 
is under many obligations to me, and she is resolved to give 
me her hand. My master Pangloss always told me that 
mankind are by nature equal. Therefore, you may depend 
upon it that I will marry your sister." " We shall see that, 
villain ! " said the Jesuit baron of Thunder-ten-Tronckh, and 
struck him across the face with the flat side of his sword. 
Candide in an instant draws his rapier, and plunges it up to 


the hilt in the Jesuit's body; but in pulling it out, reeking 
hot, he burst into tears. " Good God ! " cried he, "I have 
killed my old master, my friend, my brother-in-law. I am 
the best man in the world, and yet I have already killed 
three men ; and of these three two were priests." 

Cacambo, who was standing sentry near the door of the 
arbour, instantly ran up. " Nothing remains," said his 
master, " but to sell our lives as dearly as possible. They 
will undoubtedly look into the arbour ; we must die sword 
in hand." Cacambo, who had seen many of these kind of 
adventures, was not discouraged. He stripped the baron of 
his Jesuit's habit and put it upon Candide, then gave him 
the dead man's three-cornered cap, and made him mount on 
horseback. All this was done as quick as thought. " Gallop, 
master," cried Cacambo; " everybody will take you for a 
Jesuit going to give orders, and we shall have passed the 
frontiers before they will be able to overtake us." He flew 
as he spoke these words, crying out aloud in Spanish, " Make 
way ! make way for the reverend father- colonel ! " 


What happened to <nir hvo Travellers with two Girls, two Monkeys, 
and the Savages calif d Oreillons. 

CANDIDE and his valet had already passed the frontiers 
before it was known that the German Jesuit was dead. The 
wary Cacambo had taken care to fill his wallet with bread, 
chocolate, some ham, some fruit, and a few bottles of wine. 
They penetrated with their Andalusian horses into a strange 
country, where they could discover no beaten path. At 
length, a beautiful meadow, intersected with purling rills, 
opened to their view. Cacambo proposed to his master to 
take some nourishment, and he set him an example. " How 
can you desire me to feast upon ham when I have killed the 


baron's son, and am doomed never more to see the beauti- 
ful Cunegund ? What will it avail me to prolong a wretched 
life that might be spent far from her in remorse and despair ? 
And then what will the journal of Trevoux say ? " 

While he was making these reflections he still continued 
eating. The sun was now on the point of setting when the 
ears of our two wanderers were assailed with cries which 
seemed to be uttered by a female voice. They could not 
tell whether these were cries of grief or joy; however, they 
instantly started up, full of that inquietude and apprehension 
which a strange place naturally inspires. The cries pro- 
ceeded from two young women who were tripping stark 
naked along the mead, while two monkeys followed close at 
their heels, biting their backs. Candide was touched with 
compassion ; he had learned to shoot while he was among 
the Bulgarians, and he could hit a filbert in a hedge without 
touching a leaf, Accordingly he takes up his double-barrel 
Spanish fusil, pulls the trigger, and lays the two monkeys 
lifeless on the ground. " God be praised, my dear Cacambo, 
I have rescued two poor girls from a most perilous situation. 
If I have committed a sin in killing an Inquisitor and a 
Jesuit, I made ample amends by saving the lives of these 
two distressed damsels. Who knows but they may be young 
ladies of a good family, and that this assistance I have been 
so happy to give them may procure us great advantage in 
this country." 

He was about to continue when he felt himself struck 
speechless at seeing the two girls embracing the dead bodies 
of the monkeys in the tenderest manner, bathing their 
wounds with their tears, and rending the air with the most 
doleful lamentations. "Really," said he to Cacambo, I 
should not have expected to see such a prodigious share of 
good-nature." " Master," replied the knowing valet, " you 
have made a precious piece of work of it : do you know 
that you have killed the lovers of these two ladies." 

C AND IDE. 55 

" Their lovers, Cacambo ! You are jesting; it cannot be ; 
I can never believe it." " Dear sir," replied Cacambo, " you 
are surprised at everything; why should you think it so 
strange that there should be a country where monkeys in- 
sinuate themselves into the good graces of the ladies ? They 
are the fourth part of a man, as I am the fourth part of a 
Spaniard." " Alas ! " replied Candide, " I remember to 
have heard my master Pangloss say that such accidents as 
these frequently came to pass in former times ; and that 
these commixtures are productive of centaurs, fauns, and 
satyrs ; and that many of the ancients had seen such 
monsters; but I looked upon the whole as fabulous." 
" Now you are convinced," said Cacambo, " that it is very 
true ; and you see what use is made of those creatures by 
persons who have not had a proper education. All I am 
afraid of is, that these same ladies will play us some ugly 

These judicious reflections operated so far on Candide as 
to make him quit the meadow and strike into a thicket. 
There he and Cacambo supped ; and after heartily cursing 
the Grand Inquisitor, the Governor of Buenos Ayres, and the 
baron, they fell asleep on the ground. When they awoke, 
they were surprised to find that they could not move. The 
reason was, that the Oreillons, who inhabit that country, and 
to whom the ladies had given information of these two 
strangers, had bound them with cords made of the bark of 
trees. They saw themselves surrounded by fifty naked 
Oreillons, armed with bows and arrows, clubs, and hatchets 
of flint; some were making a fire under a large cauldron ; 
and others were preparing spits, crying out one and all : " A 
Jesuit ! a Jesuit ! We shall be revenged ; we shall ' have 
excellent cheer ; let us eat this Jesuit ; let us eat him up." 

" I told you, master," cried Cacambo mournfully, " that 
these two wenches would play us some scurvy trick.' 
Candide, seeing the cauldron and the spits, cried out, " I 


suppose they are going either to boil or roast us. Ah ! 
what would Pangloss say if he was to see how pure nature 
is formed ? Everything is right. It may be so ; but I must 
confess it is something hard to be bereft of dear Miss 
Cunegund, and to be spitted like a rabbit by these barbarous 
Oreillons." Cacambo, who never lost his presence of mind 
in distress, said to the disconsolate Candide : " Do not 
despair. I understand a little of the jargon of these people ; 
I will speak to them." " Ay, pray do," said Candide ; " and 
be sure you make them sensible of the horrid barbarity of 
boiling and roasting of human creatures, and how little of 
Christianity there is in such practices." 

" Gentlemen," said Cacambo, "you think perhaps you are 
going to feast upon a Jesuit ; if so, it is mighty well ; nothing 
can be more agreeable to justice than thus to treat your 
enemies. Indeed, the law of nature teaches us to kill our 
neighbour ; and accordingly we find this practised all over 
the world ; and if we do not indulge ourselves in eating 
human flesh, it is because we have much better fare ; but 
for your parts, who have not such resources as we, it is cer- 
tainly much better judged to feast upon your enemies than 
to throw their bodies to the fowls of the air, and thus lose 
all the fruits of your victory. But surely, gentlemen, you 
would not choose to eat your friends. You imagine you are 
going to roast a Jesuit, whereas my master is your friend, 
your defender ; and you are going to spit the very man who 
has been destroying your enemies. As to myself, I am 
your countryman ; this gentleman is my master ; and so far 
from being a Jesuit, give me leave to tell you he has very 
lately killed one of that order, whose spoils he now wears, 
and which have probably occasioned your mistake. To 
convince you of the truth of what I say, take the habit he 
has now on, and carry it to the first barrier of the Jesuits' 
kingdom, and inquire whether my master did not kill one of 
their officers. There will be little or no time lost by this, 

C AND WE. $7 

and you may still reserve our bodies in your power to feast 
on, if you should find what we have told you to be false ; 
but, on the contrary, if you find it to be true, I am persuaded 
you are too well acquainted with the prmciples of the laws of 
society, humanity, and justice, not to use us courteously, and 
suffer us to depart unhurt.'' 

This speech appeared very reasonable to the Oreillons. 
They deputed two of their people with all expedition to 
inquire into the truth of this affair, who acquitted themselves 
of their commission like men of sense, and soon returned 
with good tidings for our distressed adventurers. Upon 
this they were both loosed, and those who were so lately 
going to roast and boil them, now showed them all sorts of 
civilities, offered them friends, gave them refreshments, and 
reconducted them to the confines of their country, crying 
before them all the way, in token of joy, " He is no Jesuit, 
he is no Jesuit." 

Candide could not help admiring the cause of his de- 
liverance. " What men ! what manners ! " cried he ; " if I 
had not fortunately run my sword up to the hilt in the body 
of Miss Cunegund's brother, I should have infallibly been 
eaten alive. But, after all, pure nature is an excellent 
thing ; since these people, instead of eating me, showed me 
a thousand civilities as soon as they knew I was not a 


Candid,: and his Valet arrive in the Country of El Dorado. 
What they saw there. 

WHEN they got to the frontiers of the Oreillons, " You see," 
said Cacambo to Candide, " this hemisphere is not better 
than the other ; e'en take my advice, and let us return to 
Europe by the shortest way possible." " But how can we 
get back," s:ud Candide, " and whither shall we go? To 


my own country ? The Bulgarians and the Abares are 
laying that waste with fire and sword ; or shall we go to 
Portugal ? There I shall be burnt ; and if we abide here, we 
are every moment in danger of being spitted. But how can 
I bring myself to quit that part of the world where my dear 
Miss Cunegund has her residence ? " 

" Let us turn towards Cayenne," said Cacambo ; " there 
we shall meet with some Frenchmen ; for you know those 
gentry ramble all over the world ; perhaps they will assist 
us, and God will look with pity on our distress." 

It was not so easy to get to Cayenne. They knew pretty 
nearly whereabouts it lay ; but the mountains, rivers, preci- 
pices, robbers, savages, were dreadful obstacles in the way. 
Their horses died with fatigue, and their provisions were 
at an end. They subsisted a whole month upon wild fruit, 
till at length they came to a little river bordered with cocoa 
trees, the sight of which at once revived their droop- 
ing spirits, and furnished nourishment for their enfeebled 

Cacambo, who was always giving as good advice as the 
old woman herself, said to Candide : " You see there is no 
holding out any longer ; we have travelled enough on foot. 
I spy an empty canoe near the river-side; let us fill it with 
cocoa-nuts, get into it, and go down with the stream : a 
river always leads to some inhabited place. If we do not 
meet with agreeable things, we shall at least meet with 
something new." "Agreed," replied Candide ; "let us 
recommend ourselves to Providence." 

They rowed a few leagues down the river, the banks of 
which were in some places covered with flowers, in others 
barren ; in some parts smooth and level, and in others steep 
and rugged. The stream widened as they went farther 
on, till at length it passed under one of the frightful rocks 
whose summits seemed to reach the clouds. Here our 
two travellers had the courage to commit themselves to the 


stream, which, contracting in this part, hurried them along 
with a dreadful noise and rapidity. At the end of four-and- 
twenty hours they saw daylight again ; but their canoe was 
dashed to pieces against the rocks. They were obliged to 
creep along from rock to rock for the space of a league, till 
at length a spacious plain presented itself to their sight. 
This place was bounded by a chain of inaccessible mountains. 
The country appeared cultivated equally for pleasure and 
to produce the necessaries of life. The useful and agreeable 
were here equally blended. The roads were covered, or 
rather adorned, with carriages formed of glittering materials, 
in which were men and women of a surprising beauty, drawn 
with great rapidity by red sheep of a very large size, which 
far surpassed the finest coursers of Andalusia, Tetuan, or 

" Here is a country, however," said Candide, " preferable 
to Westphalia." He and Cacambo landed near the first 
village they saw, at the entrance of which they perceived 
some children, covered with tattered garments of the richest 
brocade, playing at quoits. Our two inhabitants of the 
other hemisphere amused themselves greatly with what they 
saw. The quoits were large round pieces, yellow, red, and 
green, which cast a most glorious lustre. Our travellers 
picked some of them up, and they proved to be gold, 
emeralds, rubies, and diamonds, the least of which would 
have been the greatest ornament to the superb throne of the 
Great Mogul. " Without doubt," said Cacambo, " those 
children must be the king's sons that are playing at quoits." 
As he was uttering these words the schoolmaster of the 
village appeared, who came to call them to school. "There," 
said Candide, " is the preceptor of the royal family." 

The little ragamuffins immediately quitted their diversion, 
leaving the quoits on the ground with all their otlier play- 
things. Candide gathers them up, runs to the schoolmaster, 
and, with a most respectful bow, presents them to him, 


giving him to understand by signs, that their royal highnesses 
had forgot their gold and precious stones. The school- 
master, with a smile, flung them upon the ground ; then 
examining Candide from head to foot with an air of 
admiration, he turned his back and went on his way. 

Our travellers took care, however, to gather up the gold, 
the rubies, and the emeralds. " Where are we ? " cried 
Candide : " The king's children in this country must have 
an excellent education, since they are taught to show such 
a contempt for gold and precious stones." Cacambo was 
as much surprised as his master. They then drew near the 
first house in the village, which was built after the manner 
of an European palace. There was a crowd of people 
about the door, and a still greater number in the house. 
The sound of the most delightful instruments of music was 
heard, and the most agreeable smell came from the kitchen. 
Cacambo went up to the door, and heard those within talk- 
ing in the Peruvian language, which was his mother tongue ; 
for every one knows that Cacambo was born in a village of 
Tucuman, where no other language is spoken. " I will be 
your interpreter here," said he to Candide, " let us go in ; 
this is an eating-house." 

Immediately two waiters and two servant -girls, dressed 
in cloth of gold, and their hair braided with ribbands of 
tissue, accost the strangers, and invite them to sit down 
to the ordinary. Their dinner consisted of four dishes of 
different soups, each garnished with two young paroquets, a 
large dish of bouille that weighed two hundredweight, two 
roasted monkeys of a delicious flavour, three hundred 
humming-birds in one dish, and six hundred fly-birds in 
another ; some excellent ragouts, delicate tarts, and the 
whole served up in dishes of rock-crystal. Several sorts of 
liquors, extracted from the sugar-cane, were handed about 
by the servants who attended. 

Most of the company were chapmen and waggoners, all 


extremely polite ; they aske d Cacambo a few questions with 
the utmost discretion and circumspection ; and replied to 
his in a most obliging and satisfactory manner. 

As soon as dinner was over, both Candide and Cacambo 
thought they should pay very handsomely for their enter- 
tainment by laying down two of those large gold pieces 
which they had picked off the ground ; but the landlord and 
landlady burst into a fit of laughing, and held their sides for 
some time. When the fit was over : " Gentlemen," said the 
landlord, " I plainly perceive you are strangers, and such we 
are not accustomed to see ; pardon us therefore for laughing 
when you offered us the common pebbles of our highways 
for payment of your reckoning. To be sure, you have none 
of the coin of this kingdom ; but there is no necessity for 
having any money at all to dine in this house. All the inns 
which are established for the convenience of those who carry 
on the trade of this nation, are maintained by the govern- 
ment. You have found but very indifferent entertainment 
here, because this is only a poor village ; but in almost every 
other of these public-houses you will meet with a reception 
worthy of persons of your merit." Cacambo explained the 
whole of this speech of the landlord to Candide, who listened 
to it with the same astonishment with which his friend com- 
municated it. " What sort of a country is this," said the 
one to the other, " that is unknown to all the world, and in 
which Nature has everywhere so different an appearance to 
what she has in ours ? Possibly this is that part of the 
globe where everything is right, for there must certainly 
be some such place. And for all that Master Pangloss 
could say, I often perceived that things went very ill in 



What they saw in the Country of El Dot-ado. 

CACAMBO vented all his curiosity upon his landlord by a 
thousand different questions : the honest man answered 
him thus : "I am very ignorant, sir, but I am contented 
with my ignorance ; however, we have in this neighbour- 
hood an old man retired from Court, who is the most learned 
and communicative person in the kingdom." He then 
carried Cacambo to the old man ; Candide acted now 
only a second character, and attended his valet. They 
entered a very plain house, for the door was nothing but 
silver, and the ceiling was only of beaten gold, but wrought 
in so elegant a taste as to vie with the richest. The ante- 
chamber, indeed, was only incrusted with rubies and 
emeralds ; but the order in which everything was disposed 
made amends for this great simplicity. 

The old man received the strangers on his sofa, which 
was stuffed with humming-birds, feathers, and ordered his 
servants to present them with liquors in golden goblets ; 
after which he satisfied their curiosity in the following 
terms : 

" I am now one hundred and seventy-two years old ; and 
I learnt of my late father, who was equerry to the king, the 
amazing revolutions of Peru to which he had been an eye- 
witness. This kingdom is the ancient patrimony of the 
Incas, who very imprudently quitted it to conquer another 
part of the world, and were at length conquered and de- 
stroyed themselves by the Spaniards. 

" Those princes of their family who remained in their 
native country acted more wisely. They ordained, with 
the consent of their whole nation, that none of the inha- 
bitants of our little kingdom should ever quit it ; and to this 


wise ordinance we owe the preservation of our innocence 
and happiness. The Spaniards had some confused notion 
of this country, to which they gave the name of El Dorado; 
and Sir Walter Raleigh, an Englishman, actually came very 
near it about three hundred years ago ; but the inaccessible 
rocks and precipices with which our country is surrounded 
on all sides, has hitherto secured us from the rapacious fury 
of the people of Europe, who have an unaccountable fond- 
ness for the pebbles and dirt of our land, for the sake of 
which they would murder us all to the very last man." 

The conversation lasted some time, and turned chiefly 
on the form of government, their manners, their women, their 
public diversions, and the arts. At length, Candide, who 
had always had a taste for metaphysics, asked whether the 
people of that country had any religion. 

The old man reddened a little at this question. " Can 
you doubt it ? " said he. " Do you take us for wretches 
lost to all sense of gratitude ? " Cacambo asked in a re- 
spectful manner what was the established religion of El 
Dorado. The old man blushed again, and said : " Can 
there be two religions then ? Ours, I apprehend, is the re- 
ligion of the whole world. We worship God from morning 
till night." " Do you worship but one God ?" said Cacambo, 
who still acted as the interpreter of Candide's doubts. 
" Certainly," said the old man j " there are not two nor 
three nor four Gods. I must confess the people of your 
world ask very extraordinary questions." However, Can- 
dide could not. refrain from making many more inquiries of 
the old man. He wanted to know in what manner they 
prayed to God in El Dorado. " We do not pray to him at 
all," said the reverend sage. " We have nothing to ask of 
him. He has given us all we want, and we give him thanks 
incessantly." Candide had a curiosity to see some of their 
priests, and desired Cacambo to ask the old man where they 
were ; at which he, smiling, said : " My friends, we are all 


of us priests. The king and all the heads of families sing 
solemn hymns of thanksgiving every morning, accompanied 
by five or six thousand musicians." " What ! " says Cacambo, 
" have you no monks among you to dispute, to govern, to 
intrigue, and to burn people who are not of the same opinion 
with themselves ? " " Do you take us for fools ? " said the 
old man ; " here we are all of one opinion, and know not 
what you mean by your monks." During the whole of this 
discourse Candide was in raptures, and he said to himself : 
" What a prodigious difference is there between this place 
and Westphalia, and this house and the baron's castle ! Ah, 
Master Pangloss ! had you ever seen El Dorado you would 
no longer have maintained that the castle of Thunder-ten- 
tronckh was the finest of all possible edifices. There is 
nothing like seeing the world, that's certain." 

This long conversation being ended, the old man ordered 
six sheep to be harnessed and put to the coach, and sent 
twelve of his servants to escort the travellers to Court. 
" Excuse me," said he, " for not waiting on you in person ; 
my age deprives me of that honour. The king will receive 
you in such a manner that 5011 will have no reason to com- 
plain ; and doubtless you will make a proper allowance for 
the customs of the country if they should not happen alto- 
gether to please you." 

Candide and Cacambo got into the coach, the six sheep 
flew, and in less than a quarter of an hour they arrived at 
the king's palace, which was situated at the further end of 
the capital. At the entrance was a portal two hundred and 
twenty feet high, and one hundred wide ; but it is impossible 
for words to express the materials of which it was built. 
The reader, however, will readily conceive they must have 
a prodigious superiority over the pebbles and sand which 
we call gold and precious stones. 

Twenty beautiful young virgins in waiting received Can- 
dide and Cacambo at their alighting from the coach, con- 


ducted them to the bath, and clad them in robes wove of 
the down of humming-birds ; after '-which they were intro- 
duced by the great officers of the Crown, of both sexes, to 
the king's apartment, between two hies of musicians, each 
file consisting of a thousand, agreeably to the custom of the 
country. When they drew near to the presence-chamber, 
Cacambo asked one of the officers in what manner they 
were to pay their obeisance to his majesty ; whether it was 
the custom to fall upon their knees, or to prostrate them- 
selves upon the ground ? whether they were to put their 
hands upon their heads or behind their backs ? whether 
they were to lick the dust off the floor ? in short, what was 
the ceremony usual on such occasions ? " The custom," 
said the great officer, "is to embrace the king, and kiss him 
oil each cheek." Candide and Cacambo accordingly threw 
their arms around his majesty's neck, who received them in 
the most gracious manner imaginable, and very politely 
asked them to sup with him. 

While supper was preparing, orders were given to show 
them the city, where they saw public structures that reared 
their lofty heads to the clouds ; the market-places decorated 
with a thousand columns ; fountains of spring-water, besides 
others of rose-water, and of liquors drawn from the sugar- 
cane, incessantly flowing in the great squares, which were 
paved with a kind of precious stones that emitted an odour 
like that of cloves and cinnamon. Candide asked to see 
the High Court of Justice, the Parliament ; but was answered 
that they have none in that country, being utter strangers to 
lawsuits. He then inquired if they had any prisons ; they 
replied, none. But what gave him at once the greatest 
surprise and pleasure was the Palace of Sciences, where he 
saw a gallery, two thousand feet long, filled with the various 
apparatus in mathematics and natural philosophy. - 

After having spent the whole afternoon in seeing only 
about the thousandth part of the city, they were brought back 



to the king's palace. Candida sat down at the table with 
his majesty, his valet Cacambo, and several ladies of the 
Court. Never was entertainment more elegant, nor could 
any one possible show more wit than his majesty displayed 
while they were at supper. Cacambo explained all the 
king's bon mots to Candide, and although they were trans- 
lated, they still appeared to be bon mots. Of all the things 
that surprised Candide, this was not the least. They spent 
a whole month in this hospitable place, during which time 
Candide was continually saying to Cacambo, " I own, my 
friend, once more that the castle where I was bora is a mere 
nothing in comparison with the place where we now are ; but 
still Miss Cunegund is not here, and you yourself have doubt- 
less some fair one for whom you sigh in Europe. If we 
remain here, we shall only be as others are ; whereas, if we 
return to our own world with only a dozen of El Dorado 
sheep loaded with the pebbles of this country, we shall be 
richer than all the kings in Europe ; we shall no longer need 
to stand in awe of the inquisitors ; and we may easily recover 
Miss Cunegund." 

This speech was perfectly agreeable to Cacambo. A fond- 
ness for roving, for making a figure in their own country, 
and for boasting of what they had seen in their travels, was 
so prevalent in our two wanderers, that they resolved to be 
no longer happy; and demanded permission of the king to 
quit the country. 

" You are about to do a rash and silly action." said the 
king. " I am sensible my kingdom is an inconsiderable spot; 
but when people are tolerably at their ease in any place, I 
should think it would be to their interest to remain there. 
Most assuredly I have no right to detain you or any strangers 
against your wills : this is an act of tyranny to which our 
manners and our laws are equally repugnant : all men are 
by nature free ; you have therefore an undoubted liberty to 
depart whenever you please, but you will have many and 

C AND WE. 67 

great difficulties to encounter in passing the frontiers. It is 
impossible to ascend that rapid river which runs under high 
and vaulted rocks, and by which you were conveyed hither 
by a kind of miracle. The mountains by which my kingdom 
are hemmed in on all sides, are ten thousand feet high, and 
perfectly perpendicular ; they are above ten leagues over each, 
and the descent from them is one continued precipice. How- 
ever, since you are determined to leave us, I will immediately 
give orders to the superintendent of my carriages to cause 
one to be made that will convey you very safe. When they 
have conducted you to the back of the mountains, nobody 
can attend you farther ; for my subjects have made a vow 
never to quit the kingdom, and they are too prudent to 
break it. Ask me whatever else you please." " All we shall 
ask of your majesty," said Cacambo, is only a few sheep 
laden with provisions, pebbles, and the clay of your country." 
The king smiled at the request, and said, " I cannot imagine 
what pleasure you Europeans find in our yellow clay ; but 
take away as much of it as you will, and much good may it 
do you." 

He immediately gave orders to his engineers to make a 
machine to hoist these two extraordinary men out of the 
kingdom. Three thousand good mathematicians went to 
work and finished it in about fifteen days ; and it did not 
cost more than twenty millions sterling of that country's 
money. Candide and Cacambo were placed on this machine, 
and they took with them two large red sheep, bridled and 
saddled, to ride upon when they got on the other side of 
the mountains ; twenty others to serve as sumpters for 
carrying provisions ; thirty laden with presents of whatever 
was most curious in the country; and fifty with gold, 
diamonds, and other precious stones. The king, at parting 
with our two adventurers, embraced them with the greatest 

It was a curious sight to behold the manner of their 

c 2 


setting off, and the ingenious method by which they and 
their sheep were hoisted to the top of the mountains. The 
mathematicians and engineers took leave of them as soon as 
they had conveyed them to a place of safety ; and Candide 
was wholly occupied with the thoughts of presenting his 
sheep to Miss Cunegund. " Now," says he, " thanks to 
Heaven, we have more than sufficient to pay the Governor of 
Buenos Ayres for Miss Cunegund, if she is redeemable. Let 
us make the best of our way to Cayenne, where we will take 
shipping, and then we may at leisure think of what kingdom 
we shall purchase with our riches." 


What happened to (hem at Surinam, and how Candide cam,: acquainted 
with Martin. 

OUR travellers' first day's journey was very pleasant ; they 
were elated with the prospect of possessing more riches than 
were to be found in Europe, Asia, and Africa together. 
Candide, in amorous transports, cut the name of Miss 
Cunegund on almost every tree he came to. The second 
day, two of their sheep sunk in a morass, and were swallowed 
up, with their lading ; two more died of fatigue ; some few 
days afterwards, seven or eight perished with hunger in a 
desert ; and others, at different times, tumbled down preci- 
pices, or were otherwise lost ; so that, after travelling about 
a hundred days, they had only two sheep left of the hundred 
and two they brought with them from El Dorado. Said 
Candide to Cacambo : " You see, my dear friend, how 
perishable the riches of this world are ; there is nothing 
solid but virtue." " Very true," said Cacambo ; " but we 
have still two sheep remaining, with more treasure than ever 
the King of Spain will be possessed of ; and I espy a town 
at a distance, which I take to be Surinam, a town belonging 


to the Dutch. We are now at the end of our troubles, and 
at the beginning of happiness." 

As they drew near the town, they saw a negro stretched 
on the ground with only one-half of his habit, which was a 
kind of linen frock, for the poor man had lost his left leg 
and his right hand. " Good God," said Candide in Dutch ; 
" what dost thou here, friend, in this deplorable condition ? " 
" I am waiting for my master, Mynheer Vanderdendur, the 
famous trader," answered the negro. " Was it Mynheer 
Vanderdendur that used you in this cruel manner ? " " Yes, 
sir," said the negro ; "it is the custom here. They give a 
linen garment twice a year, and that is all our covering. 
When we labour in the sugar-works, and the mill happens 
to snatch off a finger, they instantly chop off our hand ; and 
when we attempt to run away, they cut off a leg. Both these 
cases have happened to me ; and it is at this expense that 
you eat sugar in Europe ; and yet when my mother sold me 
for ten patacoons on the coast of Guinea, she said to me : 
' My dear child, bless our fetishes adore them for ever ; 
they will make thee live happy ; thou hast the honour to be 
a slave to our lords the whites, by which thou wilt make the 
fortune of us thy parents.' Alas ! I know not whether I 
have made their fortunes ; but they have not made mine. 
Dogs, monkeys, and parrots are a thousand times less 
wretched than I. The Dutch fetishes who converted me 
tell me every Sunday that the' blacks and whites are all 
children of one father, whom they call Adam. As for me, 
I do not understand anything of genealogies ; but if what 
these preachers say is true, we are all second cousins ; and 
you must allow that it is impossible to be worse treated by 
our relations than we are." 

" O Pangloss ! " cried out Candide, " such horrid doings 
never entered thy imagination. Here is an end of the 
matter; I find myself, after all, obliged to renounce thy 
optimism." " Optimism," said Cacambo, " what is that ? " 


11 Alas ! " replied Candida, " it is the obstinacy of maintaining 
that everything is best when it is worst ; " and so saying, he 
turned his eyes towards the poor negro, and shed a flood of 
tears ; and in this weeping mood he entered the town of 

Immediately upon their arrival our travellers inquired if 
there was any vessel in the harbour which they might send 
to Buenos Ayres. The person they addressed themselves 
to happened to be the master of a Spanish bark, who offered 
to agree with them on moderate terms, and appointed them 
a meeting at a public-house. Thither Candide and his faith- 
ful Cacambo went to wait for him, taking with them their 
two sheep. 

Candide, who was all frankness and sincerity, made an 
ingenuous recital of his adventures to the Spaniard, declaring 
to him at the same time his resolution of carrying off Miss 
Cunegund from the Governor of Buenos Ayres. " Oh, oh ! " 
said the shipmaster, " if that is the case, get whom you please 
to carry you to Buenos Ayres ; for my part, I wash my hands 
of the affair. It would prove a hanging matter to us all. 
The fair Cunegund is the Governor's favourite mistress." 
These words were like a clap of thunder to Candide ; he 
wept bitterly for a long time, and, taking Cacambo aside, 
he says to him : " I'll tell you, my dear friend, what you 
must do. We have each of us in our pockets to the value 
of five or six millions in diamonds ; you are cleverer at 
these matters than I ; you must go to Buenos Ayres and 
bring off Miss Cunegund. If the Governor makes any 
difficulty, give him a million ; if he holds out, give him two ; 
as you have not killed an Inquisitor, they will have no sus- 
picion of you : I'll fit out another ship, and go to Venice, 
where I will wait for you. Venice is a free country, where 
we shall have nothing to fear from Bulgarians, Abares, 
Jews, or Inquisitors. Cacambo greatly applauded this wise 
resolution. He was inconsolable at the thoughts of parting 


with so good a master, who treated him more like an 
intimate friend than a servant; but the pleasure of being 
able to do him a service soon got the better of his sorrow. 
They embraced each other with a flood of tears. Candide 
charged him not to forget the old woman. Cacambo set out 
the same day. This Cacambo was a very honest fellow. 

Candide continued some days longer at Surinam, waiting 
for any captain to carry him and his two remaining sheep to 
Italy. He hired domestics, and purchased many things 
necessary for a long voyage ; at length, Mynheer Vander- 
dendur, skipper of a large Dutch vessel, came and offered 
his service. " What will you have," said Candide, to carry 
me, my servants, my baggage, and these two sheep you 
see here, directly to Venice?" The skipper asked ten 
thousand piastres; and Candide agreed to his demand 
without hesitation. 

" Ho, ho ! " said the cunning Vanderdendur to himself, 
" this stranger must be very rich ; he agrees to give me ten 
thousand piastres without hesitation." Returning a little 
while after, he tells Candide that, upon second considera- 
tion he could not undertake the voyage for less than 
twenty thousand. "Very well; you shall have them," said 

" Zounds ! " said the skipper to himself, " this man agrees 
to pay twenty thousand piastres with as much ease as ten." 
Accordingly he goes back again, and tells him roundly that 
he will not carry hirn to Venice for less than thirty thou- 
sand piastres. " Then you shall have thirty thousand," said 

"Odso !" said the Dutchman once more to himself, "thirty 
thousand piasters seem a trifle to this man. Those sheep 
must certainly be laden with an immense treasure. I'll e'en 
stop here and ask no more ; but make him pay down the 
thirty thousand piastres, and then we may see what is to be 
done farther." Candide sold two small diamonds, the least 

; 2 C AND IDE. 

of which was worth more than all the skipper asked. He 
paid him beforehand ; the two sheep were put on board, and 
Candide followed in a small boat to join the vessel in the 
roads. The skipper takes his opportunity, hoists sail, and 
puts out to sea with a favourable wind. Candide, con- 
founded and amazed, soon lost sight of the ship. "Alas !" 
said he, " this is a trick like those in our old world ! " He 
returns back to the shore overwhelmed with grief; and 
indeed he had lost what would have made the fortune of 
twenty monarchs. 

Immediately upon his landing he applied to the Dutch 
magistrate. Being transported with passion, he thunders at 
the door, which being opened, he goes in, tells his case, 
and talks a little louder than was necessary. The magis- 
trate began with fining him ten thousand piastres for his 
petulance, and then listened very patiently to what he had 
to say ; promised to examine into the affair on the skipper's 
return ; and ordered him to pay ten thousand piastres more 
for the fees of the court. 

This treatment put Candide out of all patience. It is 
true he had suffered misfortunes a thousand times more 
grievous ; but the cool insolence of the judge and the villainy 
of the skipper raised his choler and threw him into a deep 
melancholy. The villainy of mankind presented itself to 
his mind in all its deformity, and his soul was a prey to the 
most gloomy ideas. After some time, hearing that the cap- 
tain of a French ship was ready to set sail for Bordeaux, as 
he had no more sheep loaded with diamonds to put on board, 
he hired the cabin at the usual price ; and made it known in 
the town that he would pay the passage and board of any 
honest man who would give him his company during the 
voyage, besides making him a present of ten thousand piastres, 
on condition that such person was the most dissatisfied 
with his condition, and the most unfortunate in the whole 


Upon this there appeared such a crowd of candidates, 
that a I MC fleet could not haye contained them> Candide, 
willing to choose au_ thr)se who appeared most likd {Q 
answer his intention, selected tweu v _ M seemed tQ him 
the most sociable, and who all pretended to merit ..* 
ference. He invited them to his inn, and promised to treat 
them with a supper, on condition that every man should 
bind himself by an oath to relate his own history ; declaring 
at the same time that he would make choice of that person 
who should appear to him the most deserving of compassion 
and the most justly dissatisfied with his condition of life, and 
that he would make a present to the rest. 

This extraordinary assembly continued sitting till four in 
the morning. Candide, while he was listening to their adven- 
tures, called to mind what the old woman had said to him 
in their voyage to Buenos Ayres, and the wager she had laid 
that there was not a person on board the ship but had met 
with some great misfortunes. Every story he heard put him 
in mind of Pangloss. " My old master," said he, " would 
be confoundedly put to it to demonstrate his favourite 
system. Would he were here ! Certainly, if everything is 
for the best, it is in El Dorado, and not in the other parts 
of the world." At length he determined in favour of a poor 
scholar, who had laboured ten years for the booksellers at 
Amsterdam, being of opinion that no employment could be 
more detestable. 

This scholar, who was in fact a very honest man, had been 
robbed by his wife, beaten by his son, and forsaken by his 
daughter, who had run away with a Portuguese. He had 
been likewise deprived of a small employment on which he 
subsisted, and he was persecuted by the clergy of Surinam, 
who took him for a Socinian. It must be acknowledged 
that the other competitors were at least as wretched as he. 
But Candide was in hopes that the company of a man of 
letters would relieve the tediousness of the voyage. All 

74 C AND WE. 

the other candidates complained that Candide had done 
them great injustice, but he stopped their mouths V J * P re - 
sent of a hundred piastres to each. 


What befell Candide and Martin on their Passage. 

THE old philosopher, whose name was Martin, took shipping 
with Candide for Bordeaux. They both had seen and suffered 
a great deal; and had the ship been to go from Surinam to 
Japan round the Cape of Good Hope, they could have found 
sufficient entertainment for each other daring the whole 
voyage in discoursing upon moral and natural evil. 

Candide, however, had one advantage over Martin ; he 
lived in the pleasing hopes of seeing Miss Cunegund once 
more whereas the poor philosopher had nothing to hope for ; 
besides, Candide had money and jewels, and notwithstanding 
he had lost an hundred red sheep laden with the greatest 
treasure on the earth, and though he still smarted from the 
reflection of the Dutch skipper's knavery, yet when he 
considered what he had still left, and repeated the name of 
Cunegund, especially after meal times, he inclined to 
Pangloss's doctrine. 

" And pray," said he to Martin, " what is your opinion of 
the whole of this system ? What notion have you of moral 
and natural evil?" "Sir," replied Martin, "our priest 
accused me of being a Socinian ; but the real truth is, I am 
a Manichasan." " Nay, you are jesting," said Candide, 
" there are no Manichasans existing at present in the 
world." " And yet I am one/' said Martin ; " but I cannot 
help it; I cannot for the soul of me think otherwise." 
" Surely the devil must be in you," said Candide. " He 
concerns himself so much," replied Martin, " in the affairs 
of this world, that it is very probable he may be in me as 

C AND WE. 75 

well as everywhere else ; but I must confess, when I cast 
my eye on this globe, or rather globule, I cannot help think- 
ing that God has abandoned it to some malignant being. I 
always except El Dorado. I scarce ever knew a city that did 
not wish the destruction of its neighbouring city, nor a 
family that did not desire to exterminate some other family. 
The poor in all parts of the world bear an inveterate hatred 
to the rich, even while they creep and cringe to them ; and 
the rich treat the poor like sheep, whose wool and flesh they 
barter for money : a million of regimental assassins traverse 
Europe from one end to the other, to get their bread by 
regular depredation and murder, because it is the most 
gentleman- like profession. Even in those cities which seem 
to enjoy the blessings of peace, and where the arts flourish, 
the inhabitants are devoured with envy, care, and in- 
quietudes, which are greater plagues than any experienced 
in a town besieged. Private chagrins are still more dread- 
ful than public calamities. In a word," concluded the 
philosopher, " I have seen and suffered so much that I am 
a Manichsean." 

" And yet there is some good in the world," replied 
Candide. ' Maybe so," said Martin ; " but it has escaped 
my knowledge." 

While they were deeply engaged in this dispute they heard 
the report of cannon, which redoubled every moment. Each 
takes out his glass, and they espy two ships warmly engaged 
at the distance of about three miles. The wind brought 
them both so near the French ship that those on board her 
had the pleasure of seeing the fight with great ease. After 
several smart broadsides, the one gave the other a shot 
between wind and water, which sunk her outright. Then 
could Candide and Martin plainly perceive an hundred men 
on the deck of the vessel which was sinking, who, withstands 
uplifted to heaven, sent forth piercing cries, and were in a 
moment swallowed up by the waves. 


" Well," said Martin, you now see in what manner man- 
kind treat each other." " It is certain," said Candide, " that 
there is something diabolical in this affair." As he was 
speaking thus, he spied something of a shining red hue, 
which swam close to the vessel. The boat was hoisted out 
to see what it might be, when it proved to be one of his 
sheep. Candide felt more joy at the recovery of this one 
animal than he did grief when he lost the other hundred, 
though laden with the large diamonds of El Dorado. 

The French captain quickly perceived that the victorious 
ship belonged to the crown of Spain ; that the other was a 
Dutch pirate, and the very same captain who had robbed 
Candide. The immense riches which this villain had 
amassed were buried with him in the deep, and only this 
one sheep saved out of the whole. " You see," said Candide 
to Martin, " that vice is sometimes punished ; this villain the 
Dutch skipper has met with the fate he deserved." "Very 
true," said Martin, " but why should the passengers be 
doomed also to destruction ? God has punished the knave, 
and the devil has drowned the rest." 

The French and Spanish ships continued their cruise, and 
Candide and Martin their conversation. They disputed 
fourteen days successively, at the end of which they were 
just as far advanced as the first moment they began. How- 
ever, they had the satisfaction of disputing, of communicating 
their ideas, and of mutually comforting each other. Candide 
embraced his sheep with transport : " Since I have found 
thee again," said he," I may possibly find my Cunegund 
once more," 



Candide and Martin, while thus reasoning with each other, draio 
mar to the coast of France. 

AT length they descried the coast of France, when Candide 
said to Martin, " Pray, Mr. Martin, were you ever in 
France ? " " Yes, sir," said Martin, " I have been in 
several provinces of that kingdom. In some one-half of 
the people are fools and madmen ; in some they are too 
artful ; in others, again, they are in general either very good- 
natured or very brutal ; while in others they affect to be 
witty ; and in all, their ruling passion is love, the next is 
slander, and the last is to talk nonsense." " But pray, Mr. 
Martin, were you ever in Paris ? " " Yes, sir, I have been 
in that city, and it is a place that contains the several species 
just described. It is a chaos, a confused multitude, where 
every one seeks for pleasure without being able to find it : 
at least, as far as I have observed during my short stay in 
that city. At my arrival I was robbed of all I had in the 
world by pickpockets and sharpers, at the fair of St. 
Germain. I was taken up myself for a robber, and confined 
in prison a whole week, after which I hired myself as 
corrector to a press, in order to get a little money towards 
defraying my expenses back to Holland on foot. I knew 
the whole tribe of scribblers, malcontents, and fanatics. It 
is said the people of that city are very polite : I believe they 
may be so." 

" For my part, I have no curiosity to see France," said 
Candide. " You may easily conceive, my friend, that after 
spending a month at El Dorado, I can desire to behold 
nothing upon earth but Miss Cunegund ; I am going to 
wait for her at Venice. I intend to pass through France in 
my way to Italy ; will you not bear me company ? " " With 


all my heart," said Martin. " They say Venice is agreeable 
to none but noble Venetians, but that, nevertheless, 
strangers are well received there when they have plenty of 
money. Now I have none, but you have ; therefore I will 
attend you whither you please." " Now we are upon this 
subject," said Candida, "do you think that the earth was 
originally sea, as we read in that great book which belongs 
to the captain of the ship ? " "I believe nothing of it." 
replied Martin, "any more than I do of the many other 
chimeras which have been related to us for some time past." 
" But then to what end," said Candide, " was the world 
formed ? " " To make us mad," said Martin. " Are you not 
surprised," continued Candide, "at the love which the two girls 
in the country of the Oreillons had for those two monkeys ? 
You know I have told you the story." "Surprised !" 
replied Martin, " not in the least ; I see nothing strange in 
this passion. I have seen so many extraordinary, things 
that there is nothing extraordinary to me now." " Do you 
think," said Candide, "that mankind always massacred 
each other as they do now ? Were they always guilty of 
lies, fraud, treachery, ingratitude, inconstancy, envy, ambi- 
tion, and cruelty ? Were they always thieves, fools, cowards, 
gluttons, drunkards, misers, calumniators, debauchees, 
fanatics, and hypocrites ? " " Do you believe," said Martin, 
" that hawks have always been accustomed to eat pigeons 
when they came in their way ? " " Doubtless," said Candide. 
" Well, then," replied Martin, " if hawks have always had 
the same nature, why should you pretend that mankind 
change theirs ? " " Oh ! " said Candide, " there is a great 

deal of difference ; for free will " And reasoning 

thus, they arrived at Bourdeaux. 



What happened to Candide and Martin in France. 

CANDIDE stayed no longer at Bourdeaux than was necessary 
to dispose of a few of the pebbles he had brought from 
El Dorado, and to provide himself with a post-chaise for two 
persons, for he could no longer stir a step without his 
philosopher Martin. The only thing that gave him concern 
was the being obliged to leave his sheep behind him, which 
he entrusted to the care of the Academy of Sciences at 
Bourdeaux, who proposed, as a prize subject for the year, 
to prove why the wool of this sheep was red ; and the prize 
was adjudged to a northern sage, who demonstrated by A 
plus B minus C, divided by Z, why the sheep must neces- 
sarily be red, and die of the mange. 

In the meantime, all the travellers whom Candide met with 
in the inns or on the road told him to a man that they 
were going to Paris. This general eagerness gave him 
likewise a great desire to see this capital, and it was not 
much out of his way to Venice. 

He entered the city by the suburbs of St. Marceau, and 
thought himself in one of the vilest hamlets in all West- 

Candide had not been long at his inn before he was 
seized with a slight disorder, owing to the fatigue he had 
undergone. As he wore a diamond of an enormous size on 
his finger, and had among the rest of his equipage a strong 
box that seemed very weighty, he soon found himself 
between two physicians whom he had not sent for, a 
number of intimate friends whom he had never seen and 
who would not quit his bedside, and two female /devotees, 
who were very careful in providing him hot suppers. 

" I remember," said Martin to him, " that the first time I 


came to Paris I was likewise taken ill. I was very poor, 
and accordingly I had neither friends, nurses, nor physi- 
cians, and yet I did very well." 

However, by dint of purging and bleeding, Candide's dis- 
order became very serious. The priest of the parish came 
with all imaginable politeness to desire a note of him, pay- 
able to the bearer in the other world. Candide refused to 
comply with his request, but the two devotees assured him 
that it was a new fashion. Candide replied that he was not 
one that followed the fashion. Martin was for throwing the 
priest out of the window. The clerk swore Candide should 
not have Christian burial. Martin swore in his turn that 
he would bury the clerk alive if he continued to plague them 
any longer. The dispute grew warm ; Martin took him by 
the shoulders and turned him out of the room, which gave 
great scandal, and occasioned a verbal process. 

Candide recovered, and till he was in a condition to go 
abroad, had a great deal of very good company to pass the 
evenings with him in his chamber. They played deep. 
Candide was surprised to find he could never turn a trick, 
and Martin was not at all surprised at the matter. 

Among those who did him the honours of the place was a 
little spruce Abbe of Perigord one of those insinuating, 
busy, fawning, impudent necessary fellows that lay wait for 
strangers at their arrival, tell them all the scandal of the 
town, and offer to minister to their pleasures at various 
prices. This man conducted Candide and Martin to the 
playhouse : they were acting a new tragedy. Candide found 
himself placed near a cluster of wits. This, however, did 
not prevent him from shedding tears at some parts of the 
piece, which were most affecting and best acted. One of 
these talkers said to him between the acts : " You are greatly 
to blame to shed tears. That actress plays horribly, and 
the man that plays with her still worse, and the piece itself 
is still more execrable than the representation. The author 


does not understand a word of Arabic, and yet he has laid 
his scene in Arabia ; and what is more, he is a fellow who 
does not believe in innate ideas. To-morrow I will bring 
ycu a score of pamphlets that have been written against 
hinx" " Pray, sir," said Candide to the Abbe, "how many 
theatrical pieces have you in France ? " " Five or six thou- 
sand," replied the other. " Indeed ! that is a great number," 
said Candide ; " but how many good ones may there be ? " 
" About fifteen or sixteen." " Oh ! that is a great number," 
said Martin. 

Candide was greatly taken with an actress who performed 
the part of Queen Elizabeth in a dull kind of tragedy that is 
played sometimes. "That actress," said he to Martin, 
" pleases me greatly. She has some sort of resemblance to 
Miss Cunegund. I should be very glad to pay my respects 
to her." The Abbe of Perigord offered his service to intro- 
duce him to her at her own house. Candide, who was 
brought up in Germany, desired to know what might be the 
ceremonial used on those occasions, and how a Queen of 
England was treated in France. " There is a necessary 
distinction to be observed in these matters/' said the Abbe. 
" In a country town we take them to a tavern ; here in 
Paris they are treated with great respect during their life- 
time, provided they are handsome, and when they die we 
throw their bodies upon a dunghill." " How," said Candide, 
" throw a queen's body upon a dunghill ! " " The gentle- 
man is quite right," said Martin ; " he tells you nothing but 
the truth. I happened to be at Paris when Miss Monimia 
made her exit, as one may say, out of this world into 
another. She was refused what they call here the rites of 
sepulture ; that is to say, she was denied the privilege of 
rotting in a churchyard by the side of all the beggars in the 
parish. They buried her at the corner of Burgundy Street, 
which must certainly have shocked her extremely, as she had 
very exalted notions of things." "This is acting very unpo- 


litely," said Candide. " Lord ! " said Martin, "what can be 
said to it ? It is the way of these people. Figure to yourseL' 
all the contradictions, all the inconsistencies possible, ard 
you may meet with them in the government, the courts of 
justice, the churches, and the public spectacles of this odd 
nation." " Is it true/' said Candide, " that the people of 
Paris are always laughing ? " " Yes," replied the Abbe ; 
" but it is with anger in their hearts. They express all their 
complaints by loud bursts of laughter, and commit the most 
detestable crimes with a smile on their faces." 

" Who was that great overgrown beast," said Candide, 
" who spoke so ill to me of the piece with which I was so 
much affected, and of the players who gave me so much 
pleasure ? " "A very good-for-nothing sort of a man, I 
assure you," answered the Abbe ; " one who gets his liveli- 
hood by abusing every new book and play that is written 
or performed. He abominates to see any one meet with 
success, like eunuchs who detest every one that possesses 
those powers they are deprived of. He is one of those 
vipers in literature who nourish themselves with their own 
venom; a pamphlet-monger." "A pamphlet-monger?" 
said Candide ; " what is that ? " " Why, a pamphlet- 
monger," replied the Abbe", " is a writer of pamphlets, 
a fool." 

Candide, Martin, and the Abbe of Perigord argued thus on 
the staircase while they stood to see the people go out of 
the playhouse. " Though I am very earnest to see Miss 
Cunegund again," said Candide, "yet I have a great incli- 
nation to sup with Miss Clairon, for I am really much taken 
with her." 

The Abbe was not a person to show his face at this lady's 
house, which was frequented by none but the best company. 
" She is engaged this evening," said he ; " but I will do my- 
self the honour to introduce you to a lady of quality of my 
acquaintance, at whose house you will see as much of 

CAND1DE. 83 

tne manners of Paris as if you had lived here for forty 

Candide, who was naturally curious, suffered himself to 
be conducted to this lady's house, which was in the suburbs 
of St. Honore- The company were engaged at basset ; 
:\velve melancholy punters held each in his hand a small 
pack of cards, the corners of which, doubled down, were so 
many registers of their ill-fortune. A profound silence 
reigned through the assembly, a pallid dread had taken 
possession of the countenances of the punters, and restless 
inquietude stretched every muscle of the face of him who 
kept the bank ; and the lady of the house, who was seated 
next to him, observed with lynx's eyes every parole and 
sept-k-va as they were going, as likewise those who tallied, 
and made them undouble their cards with a severe exactness, 
though mixed with a politeness, which she thought neces- 
sary not to frighten away her customers. This lady assumed 
the title of Marchioness of Parolignac. Her daughter, a 
girl of about fifteen years of age, was one of the punters, 
and took care to give her mamma an item, by signs, when 
any one of them attempted to repair the rigour of their ill- 
fortune by a little innocent deception. The company were 
thus occupied, when Candide, Martin, and the Abbe, made 
their entrance. Not a creature rose to salute them, or 
indeed took the least notice of them, being wholly intent 
upon the business in hand. "Ah!" said Candide, "my 
Lady Baroness of Thunder-ten-tronckh would have behaved 
more civily." 

However, the Abbe whispered the Marchioness in the ear, 
who, half raising herself from her seat, honoured Candide 
with a gracious smile, and gave Martin a nod of her head 
with an air of inexpressible dignity. She then ordered a 
seat for Candide, and desired him to make one. at their 
party of play. He did so, and in a few deals lost near a 
thousand pieces ; after which they supped very elegantly, 


and every one was surprised at seeing Candide lose so much 
money, without appearing to be the least disturbed at it. 
The servants in waiting said to each other, " This is certainly 
some English lord." 

The supper was like most others of this kind at Paris. 
At first every one was silent ; then followed a few confused 
murmurs, and afterwards several insipid jokes passed and 
repassed, with false reports, false reasonings, a little politics, 
and a great deal of scandal. The conversation then turned 
upon the new productions in literature. " Pray," said the 
Abbe, "good folks, have you seen the romance written by 
the Sieur Gauchat, doctor of divinity?" " Yes," answered 
one of the company, " but I had not patience to go 
through it. The town is pestered with a swarm of imperti- 
nent productions, but this of Dr. Gauchat's outdoes them 
all. In short, I was so horribly tired of reading this vile 
stuff, that I even resolved to come here, and make a party 

at basset." "But what say you to the Archdeacon T 's 

miscellaneous collection," said the Abbe". " Oh, my God !" 
cried the Marchioness of Parolignac, never mention the 
tedious creature. Only think what pains he is at to tell one 
things that all the world knows ; and how he labours an 
argument that is hardly worth the slightest consideration ! 
How absurdly he makes use of otfier people's wit ! how 
miserably he mangles what he has pilfered from them ! 
The man makes me quite sick. A few pages of the good 
archdeacon are enough in conscience to satisfy any one." 

There was at the table a person of learning and taste, 
who supported what the Marchioness had advanced. They 
next began to talk of tragedies, The lady desired to know 
how it came about that there were several tragedies which 
still continued to be played, though they would not bear 
reading ? The man of taste explained very clearly, how a 
piece may be in some manner interesting without having a 
grain of merit. He showed, in a few words, that it is not 


sufficient to throw together a few incidents that are to be met 
with in every romance, and that dazzle the spectator ; the 
thoughts should be new without being far-fetched ; frequently 
sublime, but always natural; the author should have a 
thorough knowledge of the human heart, and make it speak 
properly ; he should be a complete poet, without showing an 
affectation of it in any of the characters of his piece ; he should 
be a perfect master of his language, speak it with all its purity 
and with the utmost harmony, and yet so as not to make the 
sense a slave to the rhyme. " Whoever," added he, " neglects 
any one of these rales, though he may write two or three 
tragedies with tolerable success, will never be reckoned in the 
number of good authors. There are very few good tragedies ; 
some are idylliums, in well written and harmonious dialogue; 
and others a chain of political reasonings that set one asleep ; 
or else pompous and high-flown amplifications, that disgust 
rather than please. Others again are the ravings of a 
madman, in an uncouth style, unmeaning flights, or long 
apostrophes to the deities, for want of knowing how to 
address mankind : in a word, a collection of false maxims 
and dull commonplace." 

Candide listened to this discourse with great attention, 
and conceived a high opinion of the person who delivered 
it ; and as the Marchioness had taken care to place him near 
her side, he took the liberty to whisper her softly in the 
ear, and ask who this person was that spoke so well. " He 
is a man of letters," replied her ladyship, " who never plays, 
and whom the Abbe brings with him to my house sometimes 
to spend an evening. He is a great judge of writing, 
especially in tragedy : he has composed one himself, which 
was damned, and has written a book that was never seen 
out of his bookseller's shop, excepting only one copy, which 
he sent me with a dedication, to which he had prefixed my 
name." " Oh, the great man ! " cried Candide ; " he is a 
second Pangloss," 


Then turning towards him : " Sir," said he, you are doubt- 
less of opinion that everything is for the best in the physical 
and moral world, and that nothing could be otherwise than 
it is ? " " I, sir ! " replied the man of letters ; " I think no such 
thing, I assure you ; I find that all in this world is set the 
wrong end uppermost. No one knows what is his rank, his 
office, nor what he does, nor what he should do ; and that 
except our evenings, which we generally pass tolerably 
merrily, the rest of our time is spent in idle disputes and 
quarrels : Jansenists against Molinists, the Parliament against 
the Church, and one armed body of men against another ; 
courtier against courtier, husband against wife, and relations 
against relations. In short, this world is nothing but one 
continued scene of civil war." 

" Yes," said Candide, " and I have seen worse than all 
that ; and yet a learned man, who had the misfortune to be 
hanged, taught me that everything was marvellously well, 
and that these evils you are speaking of were only so many 
shades in a beautiful picture." " Your hempen sage," said 
Martin, " laughed at you. These shades, as you call them, 
are the most horrible blemishes." " The men make these 
blemishes," rejoined Candide, " and they cannot do other- 
wise." " Then it is not their fault," added Martin. The 
greatest part of the gamesters, who did not understand a 
syllable of this discourse, amused themselves with drinking, 
while Martin reasoned with the learned gentleman ; and 
Candide entertained the lady of the house with a part of his 

After supper the Marchioness conducted Candide into 
her dressing-room, and made him sit down under a canopy. 
" Well," said she, " are you still so violently fond of Miss 
Cunegund of Thunder-ten-tronck ? " Yes, madam," replied 
Candide. The Marchioness says to him, with a tender 
smile, " You answer me like a young man born in West- 
phalia. A Frenchman would have said, ' It is true, madam, 


I had a great passion for Miss Cunegund ; but since I have 
seen you I fear I can no longer love her as I did.' " " Alas ! 
madam," replied Candide, " I will make you what answer you 
please." " You fell in love with her, I find, in stooping to pick 
up her handkerchief, which she had dropped. You shall pick 
up my garter." " With all my heart, madam," said Candide ; 
and he picked it up. " But you must tie it on again," said the 
lady. " Look ye, young man," said the Marchioness, " you 
are a stranger. I make some of my lovers here in Paris lan- 
guish for me a whole fortnight ; but I surrender to you the 
first night, because I am willing to do the honours of my 
country to a young Westphalian." The fair one having cast 
her eye on two very large diamonds that were upon the young 
stranger's finger, praised them in so earnest a manner that 
they were in an instant transferred from his finger to hers. 

As Candide was going home with the Abbe he felt some 
qualms of conscience for having been guilty of infidelity to 
Miss Cunegund. The Abbe took part with him in his un- 
easiness. He had but an inconsiderable share in the thou- 
sand pieces Candide had lost at play, and the two diamonds 
which had been in a manner extorted from him ; and there- 
fore very prudently designed to make the most he could of 
his new acquaintance which chance had thrown in his way. 
He talked much of Miss Cunegund ; and Candide assured 
him that he would heartily ask pardon of that fair one for 
his infidelity to her when he saw her at Venice. 

The Abbe redoubled his civilities, and seemed to in- 
terest himself warmly in everything that Candide said, did, 
or seemed inclined to do. 

" And so, sir, you have an engagement at Venice ? " 
" Yes, Monsieur 1'AbbeY' answered Candide, " I must abso- 
lutely wait upon Miss Cunegund ; " and then the pleasure 
he took in talking about the object he Icved led him 
insensibly to relate, according to custom, part of his 
adventures with that illustrious Westphalian beauty. 


" I fancy," said the Abbe", " Miss Cunegund has a great 
deal of wit, and that her letters must be very entertaining." 
" I never received any from her," said Candide, " for you 
are to consider that, being expelled from the castle upon 
her account, I could not write to her, especially as soon 
after my departure I heard she was dead ; but, thank God, I 
found afterwards she was living. I left her again after this, 
and now I have sent a messenger to her near two thousand 
leagues from hence, and wait here for his return with an 
answer from her." 

The artful Abbe let not a word of all this escape him, 
though he seemed to be musing upon something else. He 
soon took his leave of the two adventurers, after having 
embraced them with the greatest cordiality. The next 
morning, almost as soon as his eyes were open, Candide 
received the following billet : 

" My dearest Lover, I have been ill in this city these 
eight days. I have heard of your arrival, and should fly to 
your arms were I able to stir. I was informed of your being 
on the way hither at Bourdeaux, where I left the faithful 
Cacambo and the old woman, who will soon follow me. 
The Governor of Buenos Ayres has taken everything from 
me but your heart, which I still retain. Come to me 
immediately on receipt of this. Your presence will either 
give me new life or kill me with the pleasure." 

At the receipt of this charming, this unexpected letter, 
Candide felt the utmost transports of joy ; though, on the 
other hand, the indisposition of his beloved Miss Cunegund, 
overwhelmed him with grief. Distracted between these two 
passions, he takes his gold and his diamonds, and procured 
a person to conduct him and Martin to the house where 
Miss Cunegund lodged. Upon entering the room he felt 
his limbs tremble, his heart flutter, his tongue falter. He 
attempted to undraw the curtain, and called Tor a light to 
the bedside. " Lord, sir," cried a maid-servant, who was 


waiting in the room, " take care what you do; Miss cannot 
bear the least light." And so saying, she pulls the curtain 
close again. " Cunegund ! my dear Cunegund ! " cried 
Candide, bathed in tears, " how do you do ? If you cannot 
bear the light, speak to me at least." " Alas ! she cannot 
speak," said the maid. The sick lady then puts a plump 
hand out of the bed, and Candide first bathes it with his 
tears, then fills it with diamonds, leaving a purse of gold 
upon the easy chair. 

In the midst of his transports comes an officer into the 
room, followed by the Abbe and a file of musketeers. 
"There," said he, "are the two suspected foreigners." At 
the same time he orders them to be seized and carried to 
prison. " Travellers are not treated in this manner in the 
country of El Dorado," said Candide. " I am more of a 
Manichaean now than ever," said Martin. " But pray, good 
sir, where are you going to carry us," said Candide. " To 
a dungeon, my dear sir," replied the officer. 

When Martin had a little recovered himself, so as to for 
a cool judgment of what had passed, he plainly perceiveo 
that the person who had acted the part of Miss Cunegund 
was a cheat, that the Abbe of Perigord was a sharper, who 
had imposed upon the honest simplicity of Candide, and 
that the officer was a knave, whom they might easily get rid of. 

Candide, following the advice of his friend Martin, and 
burning with impatience to see the real Miss Cunegund, 
rather than be obliged to appear at a court of justice, pro- 
poses to the officer to make him a present of three small 
diamonds, each of them worth three thousand pistoles. 
"Ah, sir," said this understrapper of justice, "had you 
committed ever so much villainy, this would render you the 
honestest man living in my eyes. Three diamonds worth 
three thousand pistoles ! Why, my dear sir, go far from 
carrying you to jai), I would lose my life to serve you. 
There are orders for stopping all strangers ; but leave it to 


me. I have a brother at Dieppe, in Normandy. I myself 
will conduct you thither, and if you have a diamond left to 
give him, he will take as much care of you as I myself should." 

" But why," said Candide, " do they stop all strangers ? " 
The Abbe of Perigord made answer that it was because a 
poor devil of the country of Atrebata heard somebody tell 
foolish stories, and this induced him to commit a parricide ; 
not such a one as that in the month of May 1610, but such 
as that in the month of December in the year 1594, and 
such as many that have been perpetrated in other months and 
years by other poor devils who had heard foolish stories. 

The officer then explained to them what the Abbe meant. 
" Horrid monsters ! " exclaimed Candide. " Is it possible 
that such scenes should pass among a people who are per- 
petually singing and dancing? Is there no flying this 
abominable country immediately, this execrable kingdom, 
where monkeys provoke tigers? I have seen bears in my 
country, but men I have beheld nowhere but in El Dorado. 
In the name of God, sir," said he to the officer, " do me the 
kindness to conduct me to Venice, where I am to wait for 
Miss Cunegund." " Really, sir," replied the officer, " I 
cannot possibly wait on you farther than Lower Normandy." 
So saying, he ordered Candide's irons to be struck off, 
acknowledged himself mistaken, and sent his followers about 
their business; after which he conducted Candide and 
Martin to Dieppe, and left them to the care of his brother. 
There happened just then to be a small Dutch ship in the 
roads. The Norman, whom the other three diamonds had 
converted into the most obliging, serviceable being that ever 
breathed, took care to see Candide and his attendants safe 
on board this vessel, that was just ready to sail for Ports- 
mouth in England. This was not the nearest way to Venice 
indeed ; but Candide thought himself escaped out of hell, 
and did not in the least doubt but he should quickly find an 
opportunity of resuming his voyage to Venice. 

C AND IDE. 91 


Candidc and Martin touch upon the English Coast: ivhat they see there. 

" AH, Pangloss ! Pangloss ! Ah, Martin ! Martin ! Ah, my 
dear Miss Cunegund ! What sort of a world is this ? " Thus 
exclaimed Candide as soon as he had got on board the Dutch 
ship. " Why, something very foolish and very abominable," 
said Martin. " You are acquainted with England," said 
Candide ; " are they as great fools in that country as in 
France ? " " Yes but in a different manner," answered 
Martin. " You know that these two nations are at war 
about a few acres of barren land in the neighbourhood of 
Canada, and that they have expended much greater sums in 
the contest than all Canada is worth. To say exactly 
whether there are a greater number fit to be inhabitants of 
a madhouse in the one country than the other, exceeds the 
limits of my imperfect capacity. I know in general that 
the people we are going to visit are of a very dark and 
gloomy disposition." 

As they were chatting thus together they arrived at Ports- 
mouth. The shore on each side the harbour was lined with 
a multitude of people, whose eyes were stedfastly fixed on a 
lusty man who was kneeling down on the deck of one of 
the men-of-war, with something tied over his eyes. Oppo- 
.site to this personage stood four soldiers, each of whom 
shot three bullets into his skull with all the composure 
imaginable ; and when it was done, the whole company went 
away perfectly well satisfied. " What the devil is all this 
for?" said Candide; "and what demon or foe to mankind 
lords it thus tyrannically over the world?" He then asked 
who was that lusty man who had been sent out of the world 
with so much ceremony, when he received for answer that 
it was an admiral. " And pray why do you put your admiral' 


to death ? " " Because he did not put a sufficient number of 
his fellow-a eatures to death. You must know, he had an 
engagement with a French admiral, and it has been proved 
against him that he was not near enough to his antagonist." 
" But/' replied Candide, " the French admiral must have 
been as far from him." " There is no doubt of that ; but in 
this country it is found requisite, now and then, to put one 
admiral to death in order to spirit up the others to fight." 

Candide was so shocked at what he saw and heard that 
he would not set foot on shore, but made a bargain with the 
Dutch skipper (were he even to rob him like the captain of 
Surinam) to carry him directly to Venice. 

The skipper was ready in two days. They sailed along 
the coast of France, and passed within sight of Lisbon, at 
which Candide trembled. From thence they proceeded to 
the straits, entered the Mediterranean, and at length arrived 
at Venice. " God be praised," said Candide, embracing 
Martin, " this is the place where I am to behold my 
beloved Cunegund once again. I can confide in Cacambo 
like another self. All is well all very well ; all as well as 


Of Pacqtictle and Friar Girojtie. 

UPON their aerival at Venice he went in search of Cacambo 
at every inn and coffee-house, and among all the ladies of 
pleasure ; but could hear nothing of him. He sent every 
day to inquire what ships were come in ; still no news of 
Cacambo. " It is strange," said he to Martin, " very strange, 
that I should have had time to sail from Surinam to Bour- 
deaux ; to travel from thence to Paris, to Dieppe, to Ports- 
mouth ; to sail along the coast of Portugal and Spain, and 
up the Mediterranean to spend some months at Venice ; 
and that my lovely Cunegund should not be arrived. Instead 


of her, I only met with a Parisian impostor and a rascally 
Abbe of Perigord. Cunegund is actually dead, and I have 
nothing to do but to follow her. Alas ! how much better 
would it have been for me to have remained in the paradise 
of El Dorado, than to have returned to this wicked Europe ! 
You are in the right, my dear Martin ; you are certainly 
in the right : all is misery and deceit." 

He fell into a deep melancholy, and neither went to the 
opera in vogue, nor partook of any of the diversions of the 
Carnival : nay, he even slighted the fair sex. Martin said to 
him, " Upon my word, I think you are very simple to 
imagine that a rascally valet, with five or six millions in his 
pocket, would go in search of your mistress to the further 
end of the world, and bring her to Venice to meet you. If 
he finds her, he will take her for himself; if he does not, he 
will take another. Let me advise you to forget your valet 
Cacambo, and your mistress Cunegund." Martin's speech 
was not the most consolatory to the dejected Candide. 
His melancholy increased, and Martin never left proving 
to him, that there is very little virtue or happiness in this 
world except, perhaps, in El Dorado, where hardly any- 
body can gain admittance. 

While they were disputing on this important subject, and 
still expecting Miss Cunegund, Candide perceived a young 
Theatin friar in St. Mark's Place, with a girl under his arm. 
The Theatin looked fresh-coloured, plump, and vigorous ; 
his eyes sparkled ; his air and gait were bold and lofty. 
The girl was very pretty, and was singing a song ; and every 
now and then gave her Theatin an amorous ogle, and 
wantonly pinched his ruddy cheeks. " You will at least 
allow," said Candide to Martin, " that these two are happy. 
Hitherto I have met with none but unfortunate people in 
the whole habitable globe, except in El Dorado ; but as to 
this couple, I would venture to lay a wager that they are 
happy." " Done \ " said Martin ; " they are not, for what 


you will." " Well, we have only to ask them to dine with 
us," said Candide, " and you will see whether I am mistaken 
or not." 

Thereupon he accosts them, and with great politeness 
invites them to his inn to eat some macaroni, with Lombard 
partridges and caviare, and to drink a bottle of Montepul- 
ciano, Lacryma Christi, Cyprus and Samos wine. The girl 
blushed ; the Theatin accepted the invitation, and she fol- 
lowed him, eyeing Candide every now and then with a 
mixture of surprise and confusion, while the tears stole down 
her cheeks. No sooner did she enter his apartment than 
she cried out : " How, Mr. Candide, have you quite forgot 
your Pacquette ? Do you not know her again ? " Candide, 
who had not regarded her with any degree of attention be- 
fore, being wholly occupied with the thoughts of his dear 
Cunegund : " Ah ! is it you, child ? Was it you that 
reduced Doctor Pangloss to that fine condition I saw him 

" Alas ! sir," answered Pacquette, " it was I indeed. I 
find you are acquainted with everything ; and I have been 
informed of all the misfortunes that happened to the whole 
family of my lady baroness and the fair Cunegund. But I 
can safely swear to you that my lot was no less deplorable ; 
I was innocence itself when you saw me last. A Cordelier, 
who was my confessor, easily misled me ; the consequences 
proved terrible. I was obliged to leave the castle some time 
after the baron kicked you out from thence ; and if a famous 
surgeon had not taken compassion on me, I had been a 
dead woman. Gratitude obliged me to live with him some 
time as a companion. His wife, who was a very devil for 
jealousy, beat me unmercifully every day. Oh ! she was a 
perfect fury. The doctor himself was the most ugly of all 
mortals, and I the most wretched creature existing, to be 
continually beaten for a man whom I did not love. You 
are sensible, sir, how dangerous it was for an ill-natured 


woman to be married to a physician. Incensed at the be- 
haviour of his wife, he one day gave her so affectionate a 
remedy for a slight cold she had caught, that she died in less 
than two hours in most dreadful convulsions. Her relations 
prosecuted the husband, who was obliged to fly, and I was 
sent to prison. My innocence would not have saved me, 
if I had not been tolerably handsome. The judge gave me 
my liberty on condition he should succeed the doctor. How- 
ever, I was soon supplanted by a rival, turned off without a 
farthing, and obliged to continue the abominable trade which 
you men think so pleasing, but which to us unhappy creatures 
is the most dreadful of all sufferings. At length I came to 
follow the business at Venice. Ah, sir ! did you but know 
what it is to be companion with every fellow with old trades- 
men, with counsellors, with monks, watermen, and abbes; 
to be exposed to all their insolence and abuse ; to be often, 
obliged to borrow the gay clothes we wear; to be robbed by 
one gallant of what we get from another ; to be subject to 
the extortions of civil magistrates; and to have for ever 
before one's eyes the prospect of old age, an hospital, or a 
dunghill, you would conclude that I am one of the most 
unhappy wretches breathing." 

Thus did Pacquette unbosom herself to honest Candide 
in his closet, in the presence of Martin, who took occasion 
to say to him, " You see I have won the wager already." 

Friar Giroflee was all this time in the parlour refreshing 
himself with a glass or two of wine till dinner was ready. 
" But," said Candide to Pacquette, " you looked so gay and 
content when I met you, you sang and caressed the Theatin 
with so much fondness, that I absolutely thought you as 
happy as you say you are now miserable." " Ah ! dear 
sir," said Pacquette, " this is one of the miseries of the trade ; 
yesterday I was stripped and beaten by an officer, yet to- 
day I must appear good-humoured and gay to please a 


Candide was convinced, and acknowledged that Martin 
was in the right. They sat down to table with Pacquette 
and the Theatin ; the entertainment was very agreeable, and 
towards the end they began to converse together with some 
freedom. " Father," said Candide to the friar, " you seem 
to me to enjoy a state of happiness that even kings might 
envy ; joy and health are painted in your countenance. 
You have a beautiful friend to divert you ; and you seem 
to be perfectly well contented with your condition as a 

" Faith, sir," said Friar Giroflee, " I wish with all my 
soul the Theatins were every one of them a t the bottom of 
the sea. I have been tempted a thousand times to set fire 
to the convent and go and turn Turk. My parents obliged 
me at the age of fifteen to put on this detestable habit, only 
to increase the fortune of an elder brother of mine, whom 
God confound ! Jealousy, discord, and fury reside in our 
convent. It is true I have preached often paltry sermons 
by which I have got a little money, part of which the prior 
robs me of, and the remainder helps to buy my joys ; but 
at night when I go hence to my convent, I am ready to dash 
my brains against the walls of the dormitory ; and this is the 
case with all the rest of our fraternity." 

Martin, turning towards Candide with his usual indiffer- 
ence, said, "Well, what think you now? Have I won 
the wager entirely ? " Candide gave two thousand piastres 
to Pacquette and a thousand to Friar Girofle'e, saying, " I 
will answer that this will make them happy." " I am not 
of your opinion," said Martin ; " perhaps this money will 
only make them wretched." " Be that as it may," said 
Candide, " one thing comforts me ; I see that one often 
meets with those whom we expected never to see again ; so 
that perhaps, as I have found my red sheep and Pacquette, 
I may be lucky enough to find Miss Cunegund also." " I 
wish," said Martin, " she one day may make you happy ; 

C AND IDE. 97 

but I doubt it much." " You are very hard of belief," said 
Candide. " It is because," said Martin, " I have seen the 

" Observe those gondoliers," said Candide ; " are they not 
perpetually singing ? " " You do not see them," answered 
Martin, " at home with their wives and brats. The dog has 
his chagrin, gondoliers theirs. Nevertheless, in the main 
I look upon the gondolier's life as preferable to that of the 
dog ; but the difference is so trifling that it is not worth 
the trouble of examining into." 

I have heard great talk," said Candide, " of the Senator 
Pococurante, who lives in that fine house at the Brenta, 
where they say he entertains foreigners in the most polite 
manner. They pretend this man is a perfect stranger to 
uneasiness." " I should be glad to see so extraordinary a 
being," said Martin. Candide thereupon sent a messenger 
to Signer Pococurante, desiring permission to wait on him 
the next day. 


Candide and Martin pay a visit to Signor Pococurante, 
a noble Venetian. 

CANDIDE and his friend Martin went into a gondola on the 
Brenta, and arrived at the palace of the noble Pococurante" : 
the gardens were laid out in elegant taste, and adorned 
with fine marble statues ; his palace was built after the most 
approved rules of architecture. The master of the house, 
who was a man of sixty, and very rich, received our two 
travellers with great politeness, but without much ceremony, 
which somewhat disconcerted Candide, but was not at all 
displeasing to Martin. 

As soon as they were seated, two very pretty girls, neatly 
dressed, brought in chocolate, which was extremely well 
frothed. Candide could not help making encomiums upon 



their beauty and graceful carriage. " The creatures are well 
enough," said the senator. " I make them my companions, 
for I am heartily tired of the ladies of the town, their 
coquetry, their jealousy, their quarrels, their humours, their 
meannesses, their pride, and their folly. I am weary of 
making sonnets, or of paying for sonnets to be made on 
them ; but after all, these two girls begin to grow very 
indifferent to me." 

After having refreshed himself, Candide walked into a large 
gallery, where he was struck with the sight of a fine collec- 
tion of paintings. " Pray," said Candide, " by what master 
are the two first of these ? " " They are Raphael's," answered 
the senator. " I gave a great deal of money for them seven 
years ago, purely out of curiosity, as they were said to be 
the finest pieces in Italy ; but I cannot say they please me : 
the colouring is dark and heavy ; the figures do not swell 
nor come out enough ; and the drapery is very bad. In short, 
notwithstanding the encomiums lavished upon them, they 
are not, in my opinion, a true representation of nature. I 
approve of no paintings but where I think I behold Nature 
herself ; and there are very few, if any, of that kind to be 
met with. I have what is called a fine collection, but I 
take no manner of delight in them." 

While dinner was getting ready Pococurante ordered a 
concert Candide praised the music to the skies. " This 
noise," said the noble Venetian, " may amuse one for a little 
time, but if it was to last above half-an-hour, it would grow 
tiresome to everybody, though perhaps no one would care 
to own it. Music is become the art of executing what is 
difficult ; now, whatever is difficult cannot be long pleasing. 

" I believe I might take more pleasure in an opera, if they 
had not made such a monster of that species of dramatic 
entertainment as perfectly shocks me ; and I am amazed how 
people can bear to see wretched tragedies set to music ; where 
the scenes are contrived for no other purpose than to lug in, 



as it were by the ears, three or four ridiculous songs, to give 
a favourite actress an opportunity of exhibiting her pipe. 
Let who will or can die away in raptures at the trills of a 
eunuch quavering the majestic part of Caesar or Cato, and 
strutting in a foolish manner upon the stage. For my part, 
I have long ago renounced these paltry entertainments, 
which constitute the glory of modern Italy, and are so dearly 
purchased by crowned heads." Candide opposed these 
sentiments ; but he did it in a discreet manner. As for 
Martin, he was entirely of the old senator's opinion. 

Dinner being served up, they sat down to table, and after a 
very hearty repast, returned to the library. Candide observing 
Homer richly bound, commended the noble Venetian's 
taste. " This," said he, " is a book that was once the delight 
of the great Pangloss, the best philosopher in Germany." 
" Homer is no favourite of mine," answered Pococurante" 
very coolly. " I was made to believe once that I took a 
pleasure in reading him ; but his continual repetitions of 
battles must have all such a resemblance with each other ; 
his gods that are for ever in a hurry and bustle, without ever 
doing anything ; his Helen, that is the cause of the war, and 
yet hardly acts in the whole performance ; his Troy, that 
holds out so long without being taken ; in short, all these 
things together make the poem very insipid to me. I have 
asked some learned men whether they are not in reality as 
much tired as myself with reading this poet. Those who 
spoke ingenuously assured me that he had made them fall 
asleep, and yet that they could not well avoid giving him a 
place in their libraries ; but that it was merely as they would 
do an antique, or those rusty medals which are kept only for 
curiosity, and are of no manner of use in commerce." 

<! But your excellency does not surely form the same 
opinion of Virgil ? " said Candide. " Why, I grant," replied 
Pococurante, " that the second, third, fourth, and sixth books 
of his ^Eneid are excellent ; but as for his pious ^Eneas, his 

D 2 


strong Cloanthus, his friendly Achates, his boy Ascanius, 
his silly king Latinus, his ill-bred Amata, his insipid Lavinia, 
and some other characters much in the same strain, I think 
there cannot in nature be anything more flat and disagree- 
able. I must confess I prefer Tasso far beyond him ; nay, 
even that sleepy tale-teller Ariosto." 

" May I take the liberty to ask if you do not receive great 
pleasure from reading Horace ? " said Candide. " There are 
maxims in this writer," replied Pococurante, " from whence 
a man of the world may reap some benefit ; and the short 
measure of the verse makes them more easily to be retained 
in the memory. But I see nothing extraordinary in his 
journey to Brundusium, and his account of his bad dinner ; 
nor in his dirty low quarrel between one Rupilius, whose 
words, as he expresses it, were full of poisonous filth ; and 
another, whose language was dipped in vinegar. His indeli- 
cate verses against old women and witches have frequently 
given me great offence ; nor can I discover the great merit 
of his telling his friend Maecenas that, if he will but rank him 
in the class of lyric poets, his lofty head shall touch the stars. 
Ignorant readers are apt to advance everything by the lump 
in a writer of reputation. For my part, I read only to please 
myself. I like nothing but what makes for my purpose." 
Candide, who had been brought up with a notion of never 
making use of his own judgment, was astonished at what he 
heard ; but Martin found there was a good deal of reason in 
the senator's remarks. 

" Oh, here is a Tully ! " said Candide ; " this great man, I 
fancy, you are never tired of reading." " Indeed, I never 
read him at all," replied Pococurante. " What a deuce is it 
to me whether he pleads for Rabirius or Cluentius ? I try 
causes enough myself. I had once some liking to his 
philosophical works ; but when I found he doubted of 
everything, I thought I knew as much as himself, and had 
no need of a guide to learn ignorance." 

C AND IDE. I0 i 

" Ha ! " cried Martin, " here are fourscore volumes of the 
Memoirs of the Academy of Sciences ; perhaps there may 
be something curious and valuable in this collection." 
"Yes," answered Pococurante" ; "so there might, if any 
one of these compilers of this rubbish had only invented the 
art of pin-making. But all these volumes are filled with 
mere chimerical systems, without one single article con- 
ducive to real utility." 

" I see a prodigious number of plays," said Candide, " in 
Italian, Spanish, and French." " Yes," replied the Vene- 
tian ; " there are I think three thousand, and not three dozen 
of them good for anything. As to those huge volumes of 
divinity, and those enormous collections of sermons, they 
are not altogether worth one single page of Seneca ; and I 
fancy you will readily believe that neither myself nor any one 
else ever looks into them." 

Martin, perceiving some shelves filled with English books, 
said to the senator : " I fancy that a republican must be 
highly delighted with those books, which are most of them 
written with a noble spirit of freedom." " It is noble to 
write as we think," said Pococurante ; "it is the privilege of 
humanity. Throughout Italy we write only what we do not 
think ; and the present inhabitants of the country of the 
Caesars and Antoninuses dare not acquire a single idea 
without the permission of a Father Dominican. I should 
be enamoured of the spirit of the English nation did it not 
utterly frustrate the good effects it would produce by passion 
and the spirit of party." 

Candide, seeing a Milton, asked the senator if he did 
not think that author a great man. " Who ? " said Poco- 
curante sharply. " That barbarian, who writes a tedious 
commentary, in ten books of rambling verse, on the first 
chapter of Genesis ! That slovenly imitator of the Greeks, 
who disfigures the creation by making the Messiah take a 
pair of compasses from Heaven's armoury to plan the 


world ; whereas Moses represented the Deity as producing 
the whole universe by his fiat ! Can I think you have any 
esteem for a writer who has spoiled Tasso's hell and the 
devil ; who transforms Lucifer, sometimes into a toad, and 
at others into a pigmy ; who makes him say the same thing 
over again a hundred times ; who metamorphoses him into 
a school-divine ; and who, by an absurdly serious imitation 
of Ariosto's comic invention of fire-arms, represents the 
devils and angels cannonading each other in heaven ! Neither 
I, nor any other Italian, can possibly take pleasure in such 
melancholy reveries. But the marriage of Sin and Death, 
and snakes issuing from the womb of the former, are enough 
to make any person sick that is not lost to all sense of 
delicacy. This obscene, whimsical, and disagreeable poem 
met with the neglect that it deserved at its first publication ; 
and I only treat the author now as he was treated in his own 
country by his contemporaries." 

Candide was sensibly grieved at this speech, as he had a 
great respect for Homer and was very fond of Milton. 
" Alas ! " said he softly to Martin, " I am afraid this man 
holds our German poets in great contempt." " There would 
be no such great harm in that," said Martin. " Oh, what 
a surprising man!" said Candide to himself; "what a 
prodigious genius is this Pococurante ! Nothing can please 

After finishing their survey of the library they went down 
into the garden, when Candide commended the several 
beauties that offered themselves to his view. " I know 
nothing upon earth laid out in such bad taste," said Poco- 
curante, " everything about it is childish and trifling ; but I 
shall have another laid out to-morrow upon a nobler plan." 

As soon as our two travellers had taken leave of his 
excellency, " Well," said Candide to Martin, " I hope you 
will own that this man is the happiest of all mortals, for he 
is above everything he possesses." " But do not you see," 


answered Martin, " that he likewise dislikes everything he 
possesses ? It was an observation of Plato long since, 
that those are not the best stomachs that reject, without 
distinction, all sorts of aliments. 5 ' " True," said Candide, 
" but still there must certainly be a pleasure in criticising 
everything, and in perceiving faults where others think 
they see beauties." " That is," replied Martin, " there is 
a pleasure in having no pleasure." " Well, well," said 
Candide, " I find that I shall be the only happy man at 
last, when I am blessed with the sight of my dear 
Cunegund." " It is good to hope," said Martin. 

In the meanwhile, days and weeks passed away, and no 
news of Cacambo. Candide was so overwhelmed with grief 
that he did not reflect on the behaviour of Pacquette and 
Friar Giroflee, who never staid to return him thanks for the 
presents he had so generously made them. 


Candide and Martin sup with six Sharpers ; and who they were. 

ONE evening that Candide, with his attendant Martin, were 
going to sit down to supper with some foreigners who 
lodged at the same inn where they had taken up their 
quarters, a man, with a face the colour of soot, came behind 
him, and taking him by the arm, said, " Hold yourself in 
readiness to go along with us ; be sure you do not fail." 
Upon this, turning about to see from whom the above came, 
he beheld Cacambo. Nothing but the sight of Miss Cune- 
gund could have given greater joy and surprise. He 
was almost beside himself. After embracing this dear 
friend, " Cunegund ! " said he, " Cunegund has come with 
you, doubtless ! Where, where is she ? Carry me to her 
this instant, that I may die with joy in her presence." 


" Cunegund is not here," answered Cacambo, " she is at 
Constantinople." " Good heavens, at Constantinople ! But 
no matter if she were in China, I would fly thither. Quick, 
quick, dear Cacambo, let us be gone." " Soft and fair," 
said Cacambo, " stay till you have supped. I cannot at 
present stay to say anything more to you. I am a slave, 
and my master waits for me : I must go and attend him at 
table. But mum ! say not a word ; only get your supper, 
and hold yourself in readiness." 

Candide, divided between joy and grief, charmed to have 
thus met with his faithful agent again, and surprised to hear 
he was a slave, his heart palpitating, his senses confused, 
but full of the hopes of recovering his dear Cunegund, sat 
down to table with Martin, who beheld all these scenes with 
great unconcern, and with six strangers, who were come to 
spend the Carnival at Venice. 

Cacambo waited at table upon one of those strangers. 
When supper was nearly over he drew near to his master, 
and whispered him in the ear, " Sire, your majesty may go 
when you please ; the ship is ready ; " and so raying he left 
the room. The guests, surprised at what they had heard, 
looked at each other without speaking a word, when another 
servant drawing near to his master, in like mp.nner said, 
"Sire, your majesty's post-chaise is at Padua, and the bark 
is ready." The master made him a sign, and he instantly 
withdrew. The company all stared at each other again, and 
the general astonishment was increased. A third servant 
then approached another of the strangers, and said, " Sire, 
if your majesty will be advised by me, you will not make 
any longer stay in this place ; I will go and get everything 
ready," and instantly disappeared. 

Candide and Martin then took it for granted that this 
was some of the diversions of the Carnival, and that these 
were characters in masquerade. Then a fourth domestic 
said to the fourth stranger, " Your majesty may set off when 

C AND IDE. 105 

you please ; " saying this, he went away like the rest A 
fifth valet said the same to a fifth master. But the sixth 
domestic spoke in a different style to the person on whom 
he waited, and who sat near to Candide. " Troth, sir," 
said he, " they will trust your majesty no longer, nor myself 
neither, and we may both of us chance to be sent to gaol this 
very night ; and therefore I shall e'en take care of myself, 
and so adieu." The servants being all gone, the six 
strangers, with Candide and Martin, remained in a profound 
silence. At length Candide broke it by saying, " Gentle- 
men, this is a very singular joke, upon my word ; why, how 
came you all to be kings ? For my part I own frankly that 
neither my friend Martin here nor myself have any claim 
to royalty. 

Cacambo's master then began, with great gravity, to de- 
liver himself thus in Italian : " I am not joking in the least. 
My name is Achmet III. I was grand seignor for many 
years ; I dethroned my brother, my nephew dethroned me, 
my viziers lost their heads, and I am condemned to 
end my days in the old seraglio. My nephew, the Grand 
Sultan Mahomet, gives me permission to travel sometimes 
for my health, and I am come to spend the Carnival at 

A young man who sat by Achmet spoke next, and said : 
" My name is Ivan. I was once Emperor of all the Russias, 
but was dethroned in my cradle. My parents were con- 
fined, and I was brought up in a prison ; yet I am some- 
times allowed to travel, though always with persons to keep 
a guard over me, and I am come to spend the Carnival at 

The third said : "I am Charles- Edward, King of England ; 
my father has renounced his right to the throne in my favour. 
I have fought in defence of my rights, and near a thousand 
of my friends have had their hearts taken out of their 
bodies alive, and thrown into their faces. I have myself 


been confined in a prison. I am going to Rome to visit 
the king my father, who was dethroned as well as myself; 
and my grandfather and I are come to spend the Carnival 
at Venice." 

The fourth spoke thus : " I am the King of Poland ; the 
fortune of war has stripped me of my hereditary dominions. 
My father experienced th same vicissitudes of fate. I 
resign myself to the will of Providence, in the same manner 
as Sultan Achmet, the Emperor Ivan, and King Charles 
Edward, whom God long preserve ; and I am come to spend 
the Carnival at Venice." 

The fifth said : " I am King of Poland also. I have twice 
lost my kingdom ; but Providence has given me other 
dominions, where I have done more good than all the 
Sarmatian kings put together were ever able to do on the 
banks of the Vistula. I resign myself likewise to Providence ; 
and am come to spend the Carnival at Venice." 

It now came to the sixth monarch's turn to speak. 
" Gentlemen," said he, " I am not so great a prince as the rest 
of you, it is true, but I am, however, a crowned head. I am 
Theodore, elected king of Corsica. I have had the title of 
majesty, and am now hardly treated with common civility. 
I have coined money, and am not now worth a single ducat. 
I have had two secretaries, and am now without a valet. I 
was once seated on a throne, and since that have lain upon 
a truss of straw in a common gaol in London, and I very 
much fear I shall meet with the same fate here in Venice, 
where I come, like your majesties, to divert myself at the 

The other five kings listened to this speech with great 
attention ; it excited their compassion ; each of them made 
the unhappy Theodore a present of twenty sequins, and 
Candide gave him a diamond worth just an hundred 
times that sum. " Who can this private person be ? " said 
the five princes to one another, "who is able to give, 


and has actually given, an hundred times as much as 
any of us ? " 

Just as they rose from table, in came four serene high- 
nesses, who had also been stripped of their territories by 
the fortune of war, and were come to spend the remainder 
of the Carnival at Venice. Candide took 110 manner of 
notice of them ; for his thoughts were wholly employed on 
his voyage to Constantinople, whither he intended to go in 
search of his lovely Miss Cunegund. 


Candide s Voyage to Constantinople. 

THE trusty Cacambo had already engaged the captain of the 
Turkish ship, that was to carry Sultan Achmet back to Con- 
stantinople, to take Candide and Martin on board. Accord- 
ingly they both embarked,, after paying their obeisance to 
his miserable highness. As they were going on board 
Candide said to Martin : " You see we supped in company 
with six dethroned kings, and to one of them I gave charity. 
Perhaps there may be a great many other princes still more 
unfortunate. For my part, I have lost only a hundred sheep, 
and am now going to fly to the arms of my charming Miss 
Cunegund. My dear Martin, I must insist on it that Pan- 
gloss was in the right. All is for the best." " I wish it may 
be so," said Martin. " But this was an odd adventure we 
met with at Venice. 1 do not think there ever was an 
instance before of six dethroned monarchs supping together 
at a public inn." " This is not more extraordinary," said 
Martin, " than most of what has happened to us. It is a 
very common thing for kings to be dethroned ; and as for 
our having the honour to sup with six of them, it is a mere 
accident not deserving our attention." 
As soon as Candide set his foot on board the vessel he 

io8 C AND WE. 

flew to his old friend and valet, Cacambo ; and throwing his 
arms about his neck, embraced him with transports of joy. 
"Well," said he, "what news of Miss Cunegund ? Does she 
still continue the paragon of beauty? Does she love me 
still ? How does she do ? You have doubtless purchased 
a superb palace for her at Constantinople ? " 

" My dear master," replied Cacambo, " Miss Cunegund 
washes dishes on the banks of the Propontis, in the house 
of a prince who has very few to wash. She is at present a 
slave in the family of an ancient sovereign named Ragotsky, 
whom the Grand Turk allows three crowns a day to maintain 
him in his exile ; but the most melancholy circumstance of 
all is, that she is turned horribly ugly." "Ugly or hand- 
some," said Candide, "I am a man of honour; and, as 
such, am obliged to love her still. But how could she pos- 
sibly have been reduced to so abject a condition when I 
sent five or six millions to her by you ? " " Lord bless me," 
said Cacambo, " was not I obliged to give two millions to 
Seignor Don Fernando d'Ibaraa y Fagueora y Mascarenes 
y Lampourdos y Souza, the Governor of Buenos Ayres, for 
liberty to take Miss Cunegund away with me ? And then 
did not a brave fellow of a pirate very gallantly strip us of 
all the rest? And then did not this same pirate carry us 
with him to Cape Matapan, to Milo, to Nicaria, to Samos, 
to Petra, to the Dardanelles, to Marmora, to Scutari ? Miss 
Cunegund and the old woman are now servants to the prince 
I have told you of, and I myself am slave to the dethroned 
Sultan." "What a chain of shocking accidents ! " exclaimed 
Candide. " But after all,, I have still some diamonds left, 
with which I can easily procure Miss Cunegund's liberty. It 
is a pity, though, she is grown so very ugly." 

Then turning to Martin, " What think you, friend ?" said 
he ; " whose condition is most to be pitied, the Emperor 
Achmet's, the Emperor Ivan's, King Charles Edward's, or 
mine?" "Faith. I cannot resolve your question," said 


Martin, " unless I had been in the breasts of you all." 
" Ah !" cried Candide, " were Pangloss here now, he would 
have known, and satisfied me at once." " I know not," said 
Martin, " in what balance your Pangloss could have weighed 
the misfortunes of mankind, and have set a just estimation 
on their sufferings. All that I pretend to know of the 
matter is, that there are millions of men on the earth, whose 
conditions are an hundred times more pitiable than those of 
King Charles Edward, the Emperor Ivan, or Sultan Achmet" 
" Why, that may be," answered Candide. 

In a few days they reached the Bosphorus, and the first 
thing Candide did was to pay a very high ransom for 
Cacambo ; then, without losing time, he and his companions 
went on board a galley in order to search for his Cunegund 
on the banks of the Propontis, notwithstanding she was 
grown so ugly. 

There were two slaves among the crew of the galley, who 
rowed very ill, and to whose bare backs the master of the 
vessel frequently applied a bull's pizzle. Candide, from 
natural sympathy, looked at these two slaves more atten- 
tively than at any of the rest, and drew near them with an 
eye of pity. Their features, though greatly disfigured, 
appeared to him to bear a strong resemblance with those of 
Pangloss and the unhappy Baron Jesuit, Miss Cunegund's 
brother. This idea affected him with grief and compassion. 
He examined them more attentively than before. "In troth," 
said he, turning to Martin, " if I had not seen my Master 
Pangloss fairly hanged, and had not myself been unluckly 
enough to run the Baron through the body, I should abso- 
lutely think those two rowers were the men." 

No sooner had Candide uttered the names of the Baron 
and Pangloss than the two slaves gave a great cry, ceased 
rowing, and let fall their oars out of their hands. The 
master of the vessel seeing this, ran up to them, and re- 
doubled the discipline of the. bull's pizzle. " Hold, hold," 


cried Candide, " I will give you what money you shall ask 
for these two persons." " Good heavens ! it is Candide/' 
said one of the men. " Candide ! " cried the other. " Do 
I dream ? " said Candide, " or am I awake ? Am I actually 
on board this galley ? Is this my Lord Baron, whom I killed ? 
and that my Master Pangloss, whom I saw hanged before 
my face ? " 

" It is I ! it is I ! " cried they both together. " What, is 
this your great philosopher? " said Martin. " My dear sir," 
said Candide to the master of the galley, " how much do 
you ask for the ransom of the Baron of Thunder-ten- 
tronckh, who is one of the first barons of the empire, and 
of Mr. Pangloss, the most profound metaphysician in 
Germany ? " " Why then, Christian cur," replied the Turkish 
captain, " since these two dogs of Christian slaves are barons 
and metaphysicians, who no doubt are of high rank in their 
own country, thou shalt give me fifty thousand sequins." 

"You shall have them, sir; carry me back as quick as 
thought to Constantinople, and you shall receive the money 
immediately. No ! carry me me first to Miss Cunegund." 
The captain, upon Candide's first proposal, had already 
tacked about, and he made the crew ply their oars so effec- 
tually that the vessel flew through the water quicker than 
a bird cleaves the air. 

Candide bestowed a thousand embraces on the Baron and 
Pangloss. " And so then, my dear Baron, I did not kill you ? 
And you, my dear Pangloss, are come to life again after 
your hanging? But how came you slaves on board a 
Turkish galley ? " " And is it true that my dear sister is 
in this country?" said the Baron. "Yes," said Cacambo. 
" And do I once again behold my dear Candide ? " said 
Pangloss. Candide presented Martin and Cacambo to 
them. They embraced each other, and all spoke together. 
The galley flew like lightning, and now they were got back to 
port. Candide instantly sent for a Jew, to whom he sold for 

CANDIDE. 1 1 ! 

fifty thousand sequins a diamond richly worth one hundred 
thousand, though the fellow swore to him all the time by 
Father Abraham that he gave him the most he could possibly 
afford. He no sooner got the money into his hands than 
he paid it down for the ransom of the Baron and Pangloss. 
The latter flung himself at the feet of his deliverer, and 
bathed him with his tears. The former thanked him with a 
gracious nod, and promised to return him the money the 
first opportunity. " But is it possible," said he, {( that my 
sister should be in Turkey ? " " Nothing is more possible," 
answered Cacambo, " for she scours the dishes in the house 
of a Transylvanian prince." Candide sent directly for two 
Jews, and sold more diamonds to them. And then he set 
out with his companions in another galley, to deliver Miss 
Cunegund from slavery. 


What befell Candide, Cunegund, Pangloss, Martin, etc. 

" PARDON," said Candide to the Baron ; " once more let 
me entreat your pardon, reverend father, for running you 
through the body." " Say no more about it," replied the 
Baron ; " I was a little too hasty, I must own. But as you 
seem to be desirous to know by what accident I came to be 
a slave on board the galley where you saw me, I will inform 
you. After I had been cured of the wound you gave me by 
the college apothecary, I was attacked and carried off by a 
party of Spanish troops, who clapped me up in prison in 
Buenos Ayres, at the very time my sister was setting out 
from thence. I asked leave to return to Rome, to the 
general of my order, who appointed me chaplain to the 
French ambassador at Constantinople. I had not been a 
week in my new office when I happened to meet one even- 
ing with a young Icoglan, extremely handsome and well 


made. The weather was very hot ; the young man had an 
inclination to bathe. I took the opportunity to bathe like- 
wise. I did not know it was a crime for a Christian to be 
found naked in company with a young Turk. A cadi 
ordered me to receive a hundred blows on the soles of my 
feet, and sent me to the galleys. I do not believe there 
was ever an act of more flagrant injustice. But I would 
fain know how my sister came to be a scullion to a Transyl- 
vanian prince who had taken refuge among the Turks." 

" But how happens it that I behold you again, my dear 
Pangloss ? " said Candide. " It is true," answered Pangloss, 
' you saw me hanged, though I ought properly to have been 
burnt ; but you may remember it that rained extremely hard 
when they were going to roast me. The storm was so 
violent that they found it impossible to light the fire, so 
they e'en hanged me because they could do no better. A 
surgeon purchased my body, carried it home, and prepared 
to dissect me. He began by making a crucial incision from 
my navel to the clavicle. It is impossible for any one to 
have been more lamely hanged than I had been. The 
executioner of the holy Inquisition was a sub-deacon, and 
knew how to burn people very well ; but as for hanging, he 
was a novice at it, being quite out of the way of his practice ; 
the cord being wet and not slipping properly, the noose did 
not join. In short, I still continued to breathe ; the crucial 
incision made me scream to such a degree that my surgeon 
fell flat upon his back ; and imagining it was the devil he 
was dissecting, ran away, and in his fright tumbled down- 
stairs. His wife hearing the noise, flew from the next room, 
and seeing me stretched upon the table with my crucial 
incis : on, was still more terrified than her husband, and fell 
upon him. When they had a little recovered themselves, I 
heard her say to her husband, ' My dear, how could you 
think of dissecting an heretic ? Don't you know that the 
devil is always in them ? I'll run directly to a priest to 


come and drive the evil spirit out.' I trembled from head 
to foot at hearing her talk in this manner, and exerted what 
little strength I had left to cry out, ' Have mercy on me ! ' 
At length the Portuguese barber took courage, sewed up my 
wound, and his wife nursed me : and I was upon my legs 
in a fortnight's time. The barber got me a place to be 
lackey to a Knight of Malta, who was going to Venice ; but 
rinding my master had no money to pay me my wages, I 
entered into the service of a Venetian merchant, and went 
with him to Constantinople. 

" One day I happened to enter a mosque, where I saw no 
one but an old imam and a very pretty young female devotee, 
who was telling her beads ; her neck was quite bare, and in 
her bosom she had a beautiful nosegay of tulips, roses, 
anemones, ranunculuses, hyacinths, and auriculas ; she let 
fall her nosegay. I ran immediately to take it up, and 
presented it to her with the most respectful bow. I was so 
long in delivering it that the imam began to be angry, and 
perceiving I was a Christian, he cried out for help ; they 
carried me before the Cadi, who ordered me to receive one 
hundred bastinadoes and sent me to the galleys. I was chained 
in the very galley and to the very same bench with the 
Baron. On board this galley there were four young men 
belonging to Marseilles, five Neapolitan priests, and two 
monks of Corfu, who told us that the like adventures 
happened every day. The Baron pretended that he had 
been worse used than myself ; and insisted that there was 
far less harm in taking up a nosegay and putting it into a 
woman's bosom, than to be found stark naked with a young 
Icoglan. We were continually whipped, and received twenty 
lashes a day with a bull's pizzle, when the concatenation of 
sublunary events brought you on board our galley to ransom 
us from slavery." 

" Well, my dear Pangloss," said Candide to them, " when 
you were hanged, dissected, whipped, and tugging at the oar, 


did you continue to think that everything in this world hap- 
pens for the best ? " "I have always abided by my first 
opinion," answered Pangloss; "for, after all, I am a philo- 
sopher, and it would not become me to retract my senti- 
ments, especially as Leibnitz could not be in the wrong, 
and that pre-established harmony is the finest thing in the 
world, as well as a plenum and the materia subtilis" 


In what manner Candide found Miss Cunegund and the 
Old Woman again. 

WHILE Candide, the Baron, Pangloss, Martin, and Cacambo 
were relating their several adventures., and reasoning on the 
contingent or non-contingent events of this world, on causes 
and effects, on moral and physical evil, on free-will and 
necessity, and on the consolation that may be felt by a 
person when a slave and chained to an oar in a Turkish 
galley, they arrived at the house of the Transylvanian prince 
on the coasts of the Propontis. The first objects they beheld 
there was Miss Cunegund and the old woman, who were 
hanging some table-cloths on a line to dry. 

The Baron turned pale at the sight. Even the tender 
Candide, that affectionate lover, upon seeing his fair Cune- 
gund all sun-burnt, with blear-eyes, a withered neck, 
wrinkled face and arms, all covered with a red scurf, started 
back with horror ; but recovering himself, he advanced to- 
wards her out of good manners. She embraced Candide 
and her brother ; they embraced the old woman, and Candide 
ransomed them both. 

There was a small farm in the neighbourhood which the 
old woman proposed to Candide to make a shift with till 
the company should meet with a more favourable destiny. 
Cunegund, not knowing that she was grown ugly, as no one 


had informed her of it, reminded Candide of his promise in 
so peremptory a manner that the simple lad did not dare to 
refuse her. He then acquainted the Baron that he was going 
to marry his sister. " I will never suffer," said the Baron, 
" my sister to be guilty of an action so derogatory to her 
birth and family ; nor will I bear this insolence on your 
part ; no, I never will be reproached that my nephews are 
not qualified for the first ecclesiastical dignities in Germany ; 
nor shall a sister of mine ever be the wife of any person 
below the rank of a baron of the empire." Cunegund flung 
herself at her brother's feet, and bedewed them with her 
tears, but he still continued inflexible. " Thou foolish 
fellow," said Candide, " have I not delivered thee from the 
galleys, paid thy ransom and thy sister's too, who was a 
scullion and is very ugly, and yet condescend to marry her ; 
and shalt thou pretend to oppose the match? If I were to 
listen only to the dictates of my anger, I should kill thee 
again." " Thou mayest kill me again," said the Baron, " but 
thou shalt not marry my sister while I am living." 



CANDIDE had in truth no great inclination to marry Miss Cune- 
gund ; but the extreme impertinence of the Baron determined 
him to conclude the match ; and Cunegund pressed him so 
warmly that he could not recant. He consulted Pangloss, 
Martin, and the faithful Cacambo. Pangloss composed a fine 
memorial, by which he proved that the Baron had no right 
over his sister; and that she might, according to all the 
laws of the empire, marry Candide with the left hand. 
Martin concluded to throw the Baron into the sea ; Cacambo 
decided that he must be delivered to the Turkish captain 
and sent to the galleys, after which he should be conveyed 


by the first ship to the Father-General at Rome. This 
advice was found to be very good : the old woman approved 
of it, and not a syllable was said to his sister. The business 
was executed for a little money ; and they had the pleasure 
of tricking a Jesuit and punishing the pride of a German 

It was altogether natural to imagine that after undergoing 
so many disasters, Candide married to his mistress, and 
living with the philosopher Pangloss, the philosopher 
Martin, the prudent Cacambo, and the old woman, having 
besides brought home so many diamonds from the country 
of the ancient Incas, would lead the most agreeable life in 
the world. But he had been so much choused by the Jews 
that he had nothing else left but his little farm ; his wife, 
every day growing more and more ugly, became headstrong 
and insupportable; the old woman was infirm, and more 
ill-natured yet than Cunegimd. Cacambo, who worked in 
the garden, and carried the produce of it to sell at Con- 
stantinople, was past his labour, and cursed his fate. 
Pangloss despaired of making a figure in any of the German 
universities. And as to Martin, he was firmly persuaded 
that a person is equally ill-situated everywhere ; he took 
things with patience. Candide, Martin, and Pangloss dis- 
puted sometimes about metaphysics and morality. Boats 
were often seen passing under the windows of the farm 
fraught with effendis, bashaws, and cadis, that were going 
nto banishment to I.emnos, Mytilene, and Erzeroum ; and 
other cadis, bashaws, and effendis were seen coming back 
to succeed the place of the exiles, and were driven out in 
their turns. They saw several heads very curiously stuck 
upon poles, and carry ingas presents to the Sublime Porte. 
Such sights gave occasion to frequent dissertations; and 
when no disputes were carried on, the irksomeness was so 
excessive, that the old woman ventured one day to tell them, 
" I would be glad to know which is worst : to be^avished a 

C AND IDE. 117 

hundred times by negro pirates, to have one buttock cut off, 
to run the gauntlet among the Bulgarians, to be whipped 
and hanged at an auto-da-fe, to be dissected, to be chained 
to an oar in a galley ; and, in short, to experience all the 
miseries through which every one of us has passed, or to 
remain here doing nothing ? " " This," said Candide, " is a 
grand question." 

This discourse gave birth to new reflexions, and Martin 
especially concluded that man was born to live in the con- 
vulsions of disquiet, or in the lethargy of idleness. Though 
Candide did not absolutely agree to this, yet he did not 
determine anything on the head. Pangloss avowed that 
he had undergone dreadful sufferings; but having once 
maintained that everything went on as well as possible, he 
still maintained it, and at the same time believed nothing 
of it. 

There was one thing which more than ever confirmed 
Martin in his detestable principles, made Candide hesitate, 
and embarrassed Pangloss, which was the arrival of Pacquette 
and Brother Giroflee one day at their farm. This couple 
had been in the utmost distress ; they had very speedily 
made away with their three thousand piastres ; they had 
parted, been reconciled ; quarrelled again, been thrown into 
prison ; had made their escape, and at last Brother Giroflee 
turned Turk. Pacquette still continued to follow her trade 
wherever she came ; but she got little or nothing by it. " I 
foresaw very well," says Martin to Candide, that your pre- 
sents would soon be squandered, and only make them more 
miserable. You and Cacambo have spent millions of 
piastres, and yet you are not more happy than Brother 
Girofle'e and Pacquette." "Ah ! '' says Pangloss to Pacquette, 
" It is heaven who has brought you here among us, my poor 
child ! Do you know that you have cost me the tip of my 
nose, one eye and one ear? What a handsome shape is 
here ! and what is this world ? " This new adventure en- 

n8 C AND IDE. 

gaged them more deeply than ever in philosophical 

In the neighbourhood lived a very famous dervish who 
passed for the best philosopher in Turkey ; him they went 
to consult. Pangloss, who was their spokesman, addressed 
him thus : " Master, we come to entreat you to tell us why 
so strange an animal as man has been formed." 

" Why do you trouble your head about it ? " said the 
dervish ; " is it any business of yours ? " " But my reverend 
father," says Candide, " there is a horrible deal of evil on the 
earth. " What signifies it," says the dervish, " whether there 
is evil or good ? When his highness sends a ship to Egypt, 
does he trouble his head whether the rats in the vessel are 
at their ease or not ?" " What must then be done ? " says 
Pangloss. " Be silent," answers the dervish. " I flattered 
myself," replied Pangloss, " to have reasoned a little with you 
on the causes and effects, on the best of possible worlds, the 
origin of evil, the nature of the soul, and a pre-established 
harmony." At these words the dervish shut the door in 
their faces. 

During this conversation news was spread abroad that 
two viziers of the bench and the mufti had been just strangled 
at Constantinople, and several of their friends impaled. 
This catastrophe made a great noise for some hours. Pan- 
gloss, Candide, and Martin, as they were returning to the 
little farm, met with a good-looking old man, who was taking 
the air at his door under an alcove formed of the boughs of 
orange-trees. Pangloss, who was as inquisitive as he was 
disputative, asked him what was the name of the mufti who 
was lately strangled. " I cannot tell," answered the good 
old man ; " I never knew the name of any mufti or vizier 
breathing. I am entirely ignorant of the event you speak 
of; I presume, that in general such as are concerned in 
public affairs sometimes come to a miserable end, and that 
they deserve it; but I never inquire what is doing at Con- 


stantinople. I am contented with sending thither the pro- 
duce of my garden, which I cultivate with my own hands." 
After saying these words, he invited the strangers to come 
into his house. His two daughters and two sons presented 
them with diverse sorts of sherbet of their own making ; 
besides caymac heightened with the peels of candied 
citrons, oranges, lemons, pine-apples, pistachio-nuts, and 
Mocha coffee unadulterated with the bad coffee of Batavia 
or the American islands. After which the two daughters of 
this good Mussulman perfumed the beards of Candide, Pan- 
gloss, and Martin. 

" You must certainly have a vast estate," said Candide to 
the Turk, who replied, " I have no more than twenty acres 
of ground, the whole of which I cultivate myself with the help 
of my children, and our labour keeps off from us three great 
evils idleness, vice, and want." 

Candide as he was returning home made profound 
reflections on the Turk's discourse. "This good old man," 
said Martin, " appears to me to have chosen for himself 
a lot much preferable to that of the six kings with whom 
we had the honour to sup." " Human grandeur," said 
Pangloss, " is very dangerous, if we believe the testimonies 
of almost all philosophers ; for we find Eglon, king of 
Moab, was assassinated by Aod ; Absalom was hung by the 
hair of his head, and run through with three darts ; King 
Nadab, son of Jeroboam, was slain by Baaza ; King Ela by 
Zimri; Ahaziah by Jehu ; Athalia by Jehoiada; the kings Jehoi- 
akim, Jeconiah, and Zedekiah were led into captivity. I need 
not tell you what was the fate of Croesus, Astyages, Darius, 
Dionysius of Syracuse, Pyrrhus, Perseus, Hannibal, Jugurtha, 
Ariovistus, Caesar, Pompey, Nero, Otho, Vitellius, Domitian, 
Richard II. of England, Edward II., Henry VI., Richard 
III., Mary Stuart, Charles I, the three Henrys of France, 
and the Emperor Henry IV." " Neither need you tell me," 
said Candide, " that we must take care of our garden." " You 

120 C AND IDE. 

are in the right," said Pangloss ; " for when man was put 
into the garden of Eden, it was with an intent to dress it ; 
and this proves that man was not born to be idle." " Work, 
then, without disputing," said Martin. " It is the only way 
to render life supportable." 

The little society, one and all, entered into this laudable 
design, and set themselves to exert their different talents. 
The little piece of ground yielded them a plentiful crop. 
Cunegund indeed was very ugly, but she became an excel- 
lent hand at pastry-work, Pacquette embroidered, the old 
woman had the care of the linen. There was none, down to 
Brother Giroflee, but did some service. He was a very good 
carpenter, and became an honest man. Pangloss used now 
and then to say to Candide : " There is a concatenation of 
all events in the best of possible worlds ; for, in short, had 
you not been kicked out of a fine castle for the love of Miss 
Cunegund, had you not been put into the Inquisition, had you 
not travelled over America on foot, had you not run the Baron 
through the body, and had you not lost all your sheep which 
you brought from the good country of El Dorado, you would 
not have been here to eat preserved citrons and pistachio- 
nuts." "Excellently observed," answered Candide; "but 
let us take care of our garden." 


How Candide quitted his Companions, and what happened to him. 

WE soon become tired of everything in life : riches fatigue 
the possessor ; ambition, when satisfied, leaves only remorse 
behind it ; the joys of love are but transient joys ; and 
Candide, made to experience all the vicissitudes of fortune, 
was soon disgusted with cultivating his garden. " Mr. Pan- 
gloss," said he, " if we are in the best of possible worlds, 
you will own, to me at least, that this is not enjoying that 
portion of possible happiness ; but living obscure in a little 
corner of the Propontis, having no other resource than that 
of my own manual labour, which may one day fail me ; no 
other pleasures than what Mrs. Cunegund gives me, who is 
very ugly, and, which is worse, is my wife ; no other com- 
pany than yours, which is sometimes irksome to me ; or that 
of Martin, which makes me melancholy; or that of Giroflee, 
who is but very lately become an honest man ; or that of 
Pacquette, the danger of whose correspondence you have so 
fully experienced ; or that of the hag who has but one hip, 
and is constantly repeating old wives' tales." 

To this Pangloss made the following reply : " Philosophy 
teaches us that monads, divisible in infinitum, arrange them- 
selves with wonderful sagacity in order to compose the 
different bodies which we observe in nature. The heavenly 
bodies are what they ought to be ; they are placed where 
they should be ; they describe the circles which they ought 


to do ; man follows the bent he ought to follow ; he is what 
he ought to be ; he does what he ought to do. You bemoan 
yourself, O Candide ! because the monad of your soul is dis- 
gusted ; but disgust is a modification of the soul ; and this 
does not hinder that everything is for the best, both for you 
and others. When you beheld me covered with sores, I did 
not maintain my opinion the less for that ; for if Miss Pac- 
quette had not made me taste the pleasures of love and its 
poison, I should not have met with you in Holland ; I 
should not have given the Anabaptist James an opportunity 
of performing a meritorious act ; I should not have been 
hanged in Lisbon for the edification of my neighbour ; I 
should not have been here to assist you with my advice, and 
make you live and die in Leibnitz's opinion. Yes, my dear 
Candide, everything is linked in a chain, everything is neces- 
sary in the best of possible worlds. There is a necessity 
that the burgher of Montauban should instruct kings ; that 
the worm of Quimper-Corentin should carp, carp, carp ; 
that the declaimer against philosophers should occasion his 
own crucifixion in St. Denis Street ; that a rascally recollet 
and the Archdeacon of St. Malo should diffuse their gall 
and calumny through their Christian journals ; that philo- 
sophy should be accused at the tribunal of Melpomene ; 
and that philosophers should continue to enlighten human 
nature, notwithstanding the croakings of ridiculous animals 
that flounder in the marshes of learning ; and should you be 
once more driven by a hearty kicking from the finest -of all 
castles, to learn again your exercise among the Bulgarians ; 
should you again suffer the dirty effects of a Dutchwoman's 
zeal ; be half-drowned again before Lisbon ; to be unmerci- 
fully whipped again by order of the most holy Inquisition ; 
should you run the same risks again among Los Padres, the 
Oreillons, and the French ; should you, in short, suffer every 
possible calamity, and never understand Leibnitz better than 
I myself do, you will still maintain that all is well; that all 


is for the best ; that a plenum, the materia subtilis, a pre- 
established harmony, and monads, are the finest things in 
the world ; and that Leibnitz is a great man, even to those 
who do not comprehend him." 

To this fine speech Candide, the mildest being in nature 
though he had killed three men, two of whom were 
priests answered not a word ; but, weary of the doctor and 
his society, next morning at break of day, taking a white 
staff in his hand, he marched off, without knowing whither 
he was going, but in quest of a place where one does not 
become disgusted, and where men are not men, as in the 
good country of El Dorado. 

Candide, so much the less unhappy as he had no longer 
a love for Miss Cunegund, living upon the bounty of different 
people, who are not Christians but yet give alms, arrived, 
after a very long and very tiresome journey, at Tauris, upon 
the frontiers of Persia, a city noted for the cruelties which the 
Turks and Persians have by turns exercised therein. 

Half-dead with fatigue, having hardly more clothes than 
what were necessary to cover that part which constitutes 
the man, and which men call shameful, Candide could not 
well relish Pangloss's opinion, when a Persian accosted 
him in the most polite manner, beseeching him to ennoble 
his house with his presence. " You make a jest of me," 
says Candide to him. " I am a poor devil who have left a 
miserable dwelling I had in Propontis, because I married 
Miss Cunegund, because she is grown very ugly, and because 
I was disgusted. I am not indeed made to ennoble any- 
body's house ; I am not noble myself, thank God. If I had 
the honour of being so, Baron Thunder-ten-tronckh should 
have paid very dearly for the kicks behind with which 
he favoured me, or I should have died of shame for it, 
which would have been pretty philosophical. Besides, I 
have been whipped very ignominiously by the executioners 
of the most holy Inquisition, and by two thousand heroes at 


threepence-halfpenny a day. Give me what you please; 
but do not insult my distress with taunts which would de- 
prive you of the whole value of your beneficence." " My 
lord," replied the Persian, "you may be a beggar, and this 
appears pretty plainly ; but my religion obliges me to use 
hospitality. It is sufficient that you are a man, and under 
misfortunes, that the apple of my eye should be the path for 
your feet. Vouchsafe to ennoble my house with your radiant 
presence." " I will, since you desire it," answered Candide. 
" Come then, enter," says the Persian. They went in 
accordingly, and Candide could not forbear admiring the 
respectful treatment shown him by his host. The slaves 
prevented his desires ; the whole house seemed to be 
busied in nothing but contributing to his satisfaction. 
" Should this last," said Candide to himself, " all does not 
go so badly in this country." Three days were past, during 
which time the kind proceedings of the Persian were all of 
a piece ; and Candide already cried out, " Master Pangloss, 
I always imagined you were in the right, for you are a great 


What befell Candide in this House; and how he got out of it. 

CANDIDE, being well-fed, well-clothed, and free from chagrin, 
soon became again as ruddy, as fresh, and as gay as he 
had been in Westphalia. His host, Ismael Raab, was 
pleased to see this change. He was a man six feet high, 
adorned with two small eyes extremely red, and a large 
nose full of pimples, which sufficiently declared his in- 
fraction of Mahomet's law. His whiskers were the 
most famous in the country; and mothers wished their 
sons nothing so much as a like pair. Raab had 
wives, because he was rich. But he thought in a 
manner that is but too common in the East and in 


some of our colleges in Europe. " Your excellence 
is brighter than the stars," says one day the cunning 
Persian to the brisk Candide, half smiling and half sup- 
pressing his words ; " you must have captivated a great 
many hearts; you are formed to give and receive happiness." 
" Alas ! " answered our hero, " I was happy only by halves, 
behind a screen, where I was but so-so at my ease. Made- 
moiselle Cunegund was handsome then " " Mademoi- 
selle Cunegund ! poor innocent thing. Follow me, my lord," 
says the Persian. And Candide followed accordingly. They 
came to a very agreeable retreat, where silence and pleasure 
reigned. There Ismael Raab tenderly embraced Candide, 
and in a few words made a declaration of love like that 
which the beautiful Alexis expresses with so much pleasure 
ir Virgil's Eclogues. Candide could not recover from 
his astonishment. "No," cried he, "I can never suffer 
such infamy ! What cause and what horrible effect ! I 
had rather die." " So you shall," says Ismael, enraged ; 
" how, thou Christian dog, because I would politely give you 
pleasure resolve directly to satisfy me, or to suffer the most 
cruel death." Candide did not long hesitate. The cogent 
reason of the Persian made him tremble, for he feared 
death like a philosopher. 

We accustom ourselves to everything in time. Candide, 
well-fed, well taken care of, but closely watched, was not 
absolutely disgusted with his condition. Good cheer, and 
the different diversions performed by Ismael's slaves gave 
some respite to his chagrin. He was unhappy only when 
he thought ; and thus it is with the greatest part of man- 

At that time one of the most staunch supporters of the 
monkish crew in Persia, the most learned of the Mahometan 
doctors, who understood Arabic perfectly, and even Greek, 
as spoken at this day in the country of Demosthenes and 
Sophocles, the Reverend Ed-Ivan-baal-Denk, returned from 


Constantinople, where he had conversed with the Reverend 
Mamoud-Abram on a very delicate point of doctrine ; 
namely, whether the prophet had plucked from the angel 
Gabriel's wing the pen which he used for the writing of the 
Alcoran ; or if Gabriel had made him a present of it. 
They had disputed for three days and three nights with a 
warmth worthy of the noblest stages of controversy ; and 
the doctor returned home persuaded, like all the disciples 
of Ali, that Mahomet had plucked the quill ; while Mamoud- 
Abram remained convinced, like the rest of Omar's followers, 
that the prophet was incapable of committing any such rude- 
ness, and that the angel had very politely made him a present 
of this quill for his pen. 

It is said that there was at Constantinople a certain free- 
thinker who insinuated that it was necessary to examine first 
whether the Alcoran was really written with a pen taken from 
the wing of the angel Gabriel ; but he was stoned. 

Candide's arrival had made a noise in Tauris : many 
who had heard him speak of contingent and non-contingent 
effects, imagined he was a philosoper. The Reverend Ed- 
Ivan-Baal-Denk was told of him. He had the curiosity 
to come and see him ; and Raab, who could hardly refuse 
a person of such consequence, sent for Candide to make 
his appearance. He seemed to be very well pleased with 
the manner in which Candide spoke of bad physics, bad 
morals ; of agent and actuated. " I understand that you are 
a philosopher, and that's all. But it is enough, Candide," 
says the venerable recluse. " It is not right that so great a 
man as you are should be treated with such indignity, as I 
am told, in the world. Your are a stranger ; Ismael Raab 
has no right over you. I propose to conduct you to Court ; 
there you shall meet with a favourable reception ; the Sophi 
loves the sciences. Ismael, you must put this young 
philosopher into my hands, or dread incurring the dis- 
pleasure of the prince, and drawing upon yourself the 



vengeance of Heaven, but especially of the monks." These 
last words frightened the otherwise undaunted Persian, 
and he consented to everything. Candide, blessing Heaven 
and the monks, went the same day out of Tauris with the 
Mahometan doctor. They took the road to Ispahan, where 
they arrived loaded with the blessings and favours of the 


Candidas reception at Court, and what followed. 

THE reverend Ed-Ivan-Baal-Denk made no delay in pre- 
senting Candide to the king. His majesty took a particular 
pleasure in hearing him. He made him dispute with several 
learned men of his Court, and those looked upon him as a 
fool, an ignoramus, and idiot, which very much contri- 
buted to persuade his majesty that he was a great man. 
" Because," said he to them, " you do not comprehend Can- 
dide's reasoning, you abuse him ; but I, who also compre- 
hend nothing at all of them, assure you that he is a great 
philosopher, and I swear to it by my whisker." Upon these 
words the literati were struck dumb. 

Candide had apartments assigned him in the palace. He 
had slaves to wait on him ; he was dressed in magnificent 
clothes, and the Sophi commanded that, whatever he should 
say, no one should dare to assert that he was wrong. His 
majesty did not stop here. The venerable monk was con- 
tinually soliciting him in favour of his guest, and his majesty 
at length resolved to rank him among the number of his 
most intimate favourites. 

" God be praised, and our holy prophet," says the imam, 
addressing himself to Candide ; " I am come to tell you a 
very agreeable piece of news : that you are happy, my dear 
Candide ; that you are going to raise the envy of the world ; 
you shall swim in opulence ; you may aspire to the most 


splendid posts in the empire. But do not forget me, my 
friend. Think that it is I who have procured you the 
favour you are just upon the point of enjoying : let gaiety 
reign over the horizon of your countenance. The king 
grants you a favour which has been sought by many, and 
you will soon exhibit a sight which the Court has not enjoyed 
these two years past." "And what are these favours," 
demanded Candide, "with which the prince intends to 
honour me?" " This very day," answered the monk, quite 
overjoyed, " this very day you are to receive fifty strokes 
' with a bull's pizzle on the soles of your feet, in the presence 
of his majesty. The eunuchs named for perfuming you 
for the occasion are to be here directly ; prepare yourself to 
go cheerfully through this little trial, and thereby render 
yourself worthy of the King of Kings. ' " Let the King of 
Kings," cried Candide in a rage, " keep his favours to 
himself, if I must receive fifty blows with a bull's pizzle 
in order to merit them." " It is thus," replied the doctor 
coldly, " that he deals with those on whom he means to 
pour down his benefits. I love you too much to regard the 
little pet which you show on the occasion, and I will make 
you happy in spite of yourself." 

He had not done speaking when the eunuchs arrived, 
preceded by the executor of his majesty's private pleasures, 
who was one of the greatest and most robust lords of the 
Court. Candide in vain remonstrated against their pro- 
ceedings. They perfumed his legs and feet according to 
custom. Four eunuchs carried him to the place appointed 
for the ceremony through the midst of a double file of 
soldiers, while the trumpets sounded, the cannon fired, and 
the bells of all the mosques of Ispahan jingled; the Sophi was 
ready there, accompanied with his principal officers and most 
distinguished personages of his Court. In an instant they 
stretched out Candide upon a little form finely gilt, and the 
executor of the private pleasures put himself in a posture for 

C AND IDE. 129 

entering upon his office. " Oh ! Master Pangloss, Master 
Pangloss ! were you but here," said Candide, weeping and 
roaring out with all his force : a circumstance which would 
have been thought very indecent if the monk had not given 
the people to understand that his guest had put himself 
into such violent agitations only the better to divert his 
majesty. This great king, it is true, laughed like a fool. He 
even took such delight in the affair, that after the fifty blows 
had been given, he ordered fifty more to be added. But 
his first minister having represented to him, with a firmness not 
very common, that such an unheard-of favour with regard to 
a stranger might alienate the hearts of his subjects, he revoked 
that order, and Candide was carried back to his apartments. 
They put him to bed, after having bathed his feet with 
vinegar. The grandees came round him in order to con- 
gratulate him on his good fortune. The Sophi then came 
to assist him in person, and not only gave him his hand to 
kiss, according to the custom, but likewise honoured him 
with a great blow of his fist on his mouth. From whence 
the politicians conjectured that Candide would arrive "t 
extraordinary preferment, and, what is very uncommon, 
though politicians, they were not deceived. 


Fresh Favours conferred on Candide ; his great Advancement. 

As soon as our hero was cured, he was introduced to the 
king, to return him his thanks. The monarch received him 
very graciously. He gave him two or three hearty boxes on 
the ear during their conversation, and conducted him back 
as far as the guard-room with several sound kicks on the 
posteriors, at which the courtiers were ready to burst for 
envy. Since his majesty had been in a drubbing humour, 
no person had ever received such signal marks of his majesty's 
favour in this way as Candide. 




Three days after this interview, our philosopher, who was 
enraged at the favours he had received, and thought that 
everything went very bad, was nominated Governor of 
Chusistan, with an absolute power. He was decorated with 
a fur-cap, which is a grand mark of distinction in Persia. He 
took his leave of the Sophi, and departed for Sus, the capital 
of his province. From the moment that Candide made his 
appearance at Court, the grandees had conspired his destruc- 
tion. The excessive favours which the Sophi had heaped on 
him, served but to increase the storm ready to burst upon 
his head. He, however, applauded himself on his good 
fortune, and especially his removal from Court ; he enjoyed 
in prospect the pleasures of supreme rank, and he said from 
the bottom of his heart 

" How blest the subject from his lord removed?" 

He had not gone quite twenty miles from Ispahan, before 
five hundred horsemen, armed cap-a-pie, came up with him 
and his attendants, and discharged a volley of fire-arms upon 
them. Candide imagined at first that this was intended to 
do him an honour ; but the ball which broke his leg soon 
gave him to know what was going on. His people laid 
down their arms, and Candide, more dead than alive, was 
carried to a castle remote from any other dwelling. His 
baggage, camels, slaves, white and black eunuchs, with 
thirty-six women which the Sophi had given him, all became 
the prey of the conqueror. Our hero's leg was cut off for 
fear of a mortification, and care was taken of his life that a 
more cruel death might be inflicted on him. 

" O Pangloss ! Pangloss ! what would now become of your 
optimism, if you saw me short of one leg in the hands of 
my cruellest enemies ; just as I was entering upon the path 
of happiness, and was governor or king, as one may say, of 
one of the most considerable provinces of the empire of 
ancient Media; when I had camels, slaves, black and 
white eunuchs, and thirty-six women for my harem, and 


of which I had only heard." Thus Candide spoke as soon 
as he was able to speak. 

But while he was thus bemoaning himself everything was 
going for the best for him. The Ministry, informed of the 
outrages committed against him, had despatched a body of 
well-disciplined troops in pursuit of the mutineers, and the 
monk Ed-Ivan-Baal-Denk took care to publish by means of 
others of his fraternity, that Candide being the work of the 
monks, w r as consequently the work of God. Such as had 
any knowledge of this atrocious attempt were so much 
the more ready to discover it, as the ministers of religion 
gave assurance on the part of Mahomet, that every one 
who had eaten pork, drunk wine, omitted bathing for 
any number of days together, or had otherwise acted 
against the express prohibitions of the Alcoran, should 
be, ipso facto, absolved, upon declaring what they knew 
concerning the conspiracy. They soon discovered the 
place of Candide's confinement, which they broke open ; 
and as it was a religious affair, the party worsted were ex- 
terminated to a man, agreeably to custom in that case. 
Candide, marching over a heap of dead bodies, made his 
escape, triumphed over the greatest peril he had hitherto 
encountered, and with his attendants resumed the road to 
his government. He was received there as a favourite who 
had been honoured with fifty blows of a bull's-pizzle on the 
soles of his feet in the presence of the King of Kings. 


How Candide becomes a very Great Man, and y 'd is not contented. 

THE good of philosophy is its inspiring us with a love for our 
fellow-creatures. Pascal is almost the only philosopher 
who seems desirous to make us hate our neighbours. 
Luckily Candide had not read Pascal, and he loved the 
poor human race very cordially. This was soon perceived 

E 2 


by the upright part of the people. They had always kept 
at a distance from the pretended legates of heaven, but made 
no scruple of visiting Candide and assisting him with their 
counsels. He made several wise regulations for the en- 
couragement of agriculture, population, commerce, and the 
arts. He rewarded those who had made any useful experi- 
ments ; and even encouraged such as had produced some 
essays on literature. " When the people in my province 
are in general content," said he, with a charming candour, 
" possibly I shall be so myself.'' Candide was a stranger to 
mankind; he saw himself torn to pieces in seditious libels, and 
calumniated in a work entitled " T-he Friend to Mankind." 
He found that, while he was labouring to make people 
happy, he had omy made them ungrateful. " Ah," cried 
Candide, " how hard it is to govern these beings without 
feathers, which vegetate on the earth ! Why am I not still 
in Propontis, in the company of Master Pangloss, Miss 
Cunegund, the daughter of Pope Urban X. with only one 
buttock, brother Giroflee, and the most luscious Pacquette ? " 


The Pleasures of Candide. 

CANDIDE, in the bitterness of his grief, wrote a very pathetic 
letter to the Rev. Ed-Ivan-Baal-Denk. He painted to him 
in such lively colours the present state of his soul, that 
Ed-Ivan, greatly affected with it, obtained permission of the 
Sophi that Candide should resign his employments. His 
majesty, in recompense of his services, granted him a very 
considerable pension. Eased from the weight of grandeur, 
our philosopher immediately sought after Pangloss's opti- 
mism in the pleasures of a private life. He till then had 
lived for the benefit of others, and seemed to have forgotten 
that he had a seraglio. 
He now called it to remembrance with that emotion 


which the very name inspires. " Let everything be got 
ready," says he to his first eunuch, " for my visiting my 
women." " My lord," answered the shrill-piped slave, 
" it is now that your excellency deserves the title of wise. 
The men for whom you have done so much were not worthy 

of employing your thoughts ; but the women " " That 

may be," said Candide modestly. 

At the bottom of a garden, where art had assisted nature 
to unfold her beauties, stood a small house, of simple and 
elegant structure, and by that means alone very different 
from those which are to be seen in the suburbs of the finest 
city in Europe. Candide could not approach it without 
blushing; the air round this charming retreat diffused a 
delicious perfume; the flowers, amorously intermingled, 
seemed here to be guided by the instinct of pleasure, and 
preserved for a long time their various beauties. Here the 
rose never lost its lovely hue ; the view of a tock, from 
which the waters precipitated themselves with a murmuring 
and confused noise, invited the soul to that soft melancholy 
which is ever the forerunner of pleasure. Candide enters 
trembling into a saloon, where taste and magnificence are 
united ; his senses are drawn by a secret charm ; he casts 
his eyes on young Telemachus, who breathes on the 
canvas in the midst of the nymphs of Calypso's court. He 
next tunis them to Diana, who flies into the arms of the 
tender Endymion ; his agitation increases at the sight of 
a Venus, faithfully copied from that of Medicis ; his ears 
on a sudden are struck with a divine harmony ; a company 
of young Circassian females appear covered with their veils ; 
they form round him a soit of dance, agreeably designed, 
and more just than those trifling jigs that are performed on 
as trifling stages after the representation of the death of 
Caesar and Pompey. 

At a signal given they throw off their veils, and discover 
faces full of expression that lend new life to the diversion. 

134 CAND1DE. 

These beauties studied the most attractive attitude without 
appearing to intend it : one expressed in her looks a passion 
without bounds ; another a soft languor, which waits for 
pleasures without seeking them. This fair stoops and raises 
herself precipitately, to give leave to a cursory view of those 
enchanting charms which the fair sex display in such full 
scope at Paris ; and that other throws aside a part of her 
cymar to show a leg which alone is capable of inspiring a 
mortal of any delicacy. The dance ceases, and they remain 
in profound silence. 

This pause recalls Candide to himself. Enthusiasm takes 
possession of his breast. He darts the most ardent looks on 
all around him, and is met by eyes that swim in liquid fire. 
His eye rests upon forms whiter than alabaster, whose pal- 
pitating motion repels the touch ; admires their proportion ; 
perceives lips like those rosebuds which only wait the 
genial rays of the sun to unfold them ; he kisses them with 

Our philosopher next admires, for a while, a majestic figure 
of a fine and delicate shape. His attention becomes fixed upon 
one, and he at length throws the handkerchief to a young per- 
son whose eyes he had observed to be always fixed upon him. 

" O master ! my dear master ! " cried Candide, almost 
beside himself, "everything here is as well as in El 
Dorado. I am as happy as it is possible to be. Leibnitz is 
in the right, and you are a great philosopher. For instance, 
I engage that you, my lovely girl, have always had a bias 
towards optimism, because you have always been happy." 
" Alas ! no," answered she, " I do not know what optimism 
is ; but I swear to you that your slave has not known happi- 
ness till to-day. If my lord is pleased to give me leave, I 
will convince him of it by a succinct recital of my adven- 
tures." "I am very willing," said Candide; "I am in a 
pretty calm situation for hearing an historical detail." Upon 
which the fair slave began as follows. 




The History of Zirza. 

MY father was a Christian, and so likewise am I, as far as I 
have been told. He had a little hermitage near Cotatis, 
where, by his fervent devotion, and practising austerities 
shocking to human nature, he acquired the veneration 
of the faithful. Crowds came to pay him their homage, 
and took a particular satisfaction in bathing his posteriors, 
which he lashed every day with several smart strokes of 
discipline : doubtless it was to one of the most devout of 
these visitants that I owe my being. I was brought up in 
a cave, in the neighbourhood of my father's little cell. I 
was twelve years of age, and had not yet left this kind of 
grave, when the earth shook with a dreadful noise ; the arch 
of the vault fell in, and I was drawn out from under the 
rubbish half- dead, when light struck my eyes for the first 
time. My father took me into his hermitage as a pre- 
destinated child. The whole of this adventure appeared 
strange to the people ; my father cried it up as a miracle, 
and so did they. 

I was called Zirza, which in Persian signifies child of 
providence. Notice was soon taken of my poor charms : 
the women already came but seldom to the hermitage, and 
the men much oftener. One of them tells me that he loved 
me. "Villain," says my father to him, "hast thou substance 
sufficient to love her? This is a deposit which God has 
entrusted to me : he has made his appearance to me this 
night under the shape of a venerable hermit, and forbade me 
to give up the possession thereof out of my hands for less 
than a thousand sequins. Get thee gone, poor -devil, lest 
thine impure breath should blast her charms." " I have," 
answered he, " only a heart to offer her. But say, barbarian, 
dost thou not blush to make sport of the Deity for the 

136 , CANDIDE. 

gratifying thine avarice ? With what front, vile wretch, 
darest thou pretend that God has spoken to thee ? This is 
throwing the greatest contempt upon the Author of beings, 
to represent Him conversing with such men as thou art." 
" O blasphemy ! " cried my father in a rage, " God himself 
has commanded me to stone blasphemers." As he spoke 
these words, he fell upon my lover, and with repeated blows 
laid him dead on the ground, and his blood flew in my face. 
Though I had not yet known what love is, this man had 
given me concern, and his death threw me into an affliction, 
so much the greater, as it rendered the sight of my father 
insupportable to me. I took a resolution to leave him : he 
perceived it. " Ungrateful," says he to me, " it is to me thou 
owest thy being. Thou art my daughter, and thou hatest 
me . but I am going to deserve thy hatred by the most 
rigorous treatment." He kept his word but too well with me, 
cruel man ! During five years, which I spent in tears and 
groans, neither my youth, nor my clouded beauty, could in 
the least abate his wrath. Sometimes he stuck a thousand 
pins into all the parts of my body ; at other times, with 
his discipline, he made the blood trickle down my side." 
"This," says Candide, "gave you less pain than the pins." 
" True, my lord," answers Zirza. " At last," continued she, 
" I fled from my father's habitation ; and not daring to trust 
myself to anybody, I flung myself into the thickest part of 
the woods, where I was three days without food, and should 
have died, were it not for a tiger which I had the happiness 
to please, and was willing to share with me the prey he 
caught. But I had many horrors to encounter from this 
formidable beast ; and the brute was very near destroying 
me. Bad food gave me the scurvy. Scarcely was I cured, 
before 1 followed a merchant of slaves, who was going to 
Teflis ; the plague was there then, and I took it. These 
various misfortunes did not absolutely affect my features, 
nor hinder the Sophi's messenger from buying me for you. 

C AND IDE. 137 

I have languished in tears these three months that I have 
been among the number of your women. My companions 
and I imagined ourselves to be the objects of your con- 
tempt. In short, I am not yet eighteen years of age ; and 
of these I have spent twelve in a frightful cavern ; under- 
gone an earthquake ; been covered with the blood of the 
first lovely man I had hitherto seen; endured for the 
space of four years the most cruel tortures, and have had 
the scurvy and the plague. Consumed with desires, 
amidst a crew of black and white monsters, still preserv- 
ing that which I have saved from the fury of an awkward 
tiger, and cursing my fate, I have passed three months in 
this seraglio, where I should have died of the jaundice had 
not your excellency honoured me at last with your atten- 
tion." " O heavens ! " cried Candide, " is it possible that 
you have experienced such sensible misfortunes at so tender 
an age ? What would Pangloss say could he hear you ? 
But your misfortunes are at an end, as well as mine. Every- 
thing does not go badly now ; is not this true ? " Upon 
that Candide caressed the unfortunate one, and was more 
than ever confirmed in the belief of Pangloss's system. 


Candidas disgusts. An unexpected Meeting. 

OUR philosopher dried up as he grew happy. Then Zirza's 
eyes lost all their vivacity in those of Candide ; her 
complexion, its lustre ; and her lips that pure vermillion 
which had enchanted him at first sight. He now perceived 
that she walked badly and had an offensive smell ; he saw, 
with the greatest disgust, a spot upon the face which he 
had never observed before to be tainted with any blemish. 
The vehement ardour of Zirza became burdensome to him : 
he could see, with great coolness, the faults of his other 
women, which had escaped him in his first transports of 

138 C AND IDE. 

admiration ; he saw nothing in them but a barefaced im- 
pudence : he was ashamed to have walked in the steps of 
the wisest of men \ and he found women more bitter than death. 
Candide, always cherishing these Christian sentiments, 
spent his leisure time in walking over the streets of Sus ; 
when one day a cavalier, in a superb dress, came up to him 
suddenly, and called him by his name. " Is it possible," 

cried Candide, /'my lord, that you are ? It is not 

possible ; otherwise you are so very like the Abbe of 

Perigord ." I am the very man," answered the Abbe. 

Upon this Candide started back, and with his usual 
ingenuousness said, " Are you happy, Mr. Abbe ? " "A 
fine question ! " replied the Abbe, " The little deceit which I 
have put upon you has contributed not a little to gain mt 
credit. The police had employed me for some time, but 
having fallen out with them, I quitted the ecclesiastical 
habit, which was no longer of any service to me. I went 
over into England, where persons of my profession are 
better paid. I said all I knew, and all I did not know, 
about the strength and weakness of the country I had lately 
left. I especially gave bold assurances that the French 
were the dregs of the world, and that good sense dwelt no- 
where but in London. In short, I made a splendid fortune, 
and have just concluded a treaty at the Court of Persia, 
which tends to exterminate all the Europeans who come 
for cotton and silk into the Sophi's dominions, to the 
detriment of the English." " The object of your mission is 
very commendable," says our philosopher ; " but, Mr. Abbe, 
you are a cheat. I like not cheats, and I have some credit 
at Court. Tremble now, your happiness has arrived at its 
utmost limits : you are just upon the point of suffering the 
fate you deserve." "My Lord Candide," cried the Abbe, 
throwing himself on his kness, " have pity on me : I feel 
myself drawn to evil by an irresistible force, as you find 
yourself necessitated to the practice of virtue. This fatal 


propensity I have perceived from the moment I became 
acquainted with Mr. Wasp, and worked at the Feuilles" 
" What do you call Fenilles ? " says Candide. " Feuilles" 
answered the Abbe, " are sheets of seventy-two pages in 
print, in which the public are entertained in the strain of 
calumny, satire, and dulness. An honest man who can 
read and write, and not being able to continue among the 
Jesuits so long as he chose, has set himself to compose 
this pretty little work, that he may have wherewithal to give 
his wife some lace, and bring up his children in the fear of 
God ; and there are certain honest people who, for a few 
pence and some bottles of bad wine, assist the man in 
carrying on his scheme. This Mr. Wasp is, besides, a 
member of a curious club, who divert themselves with 
making poor ignorant people drunk, and setting them to 
blaspheme ; or in bullying a poor simple devil, and breaking 
his furniture, and afterwards challenging him. Such little 
pretty amusements these gentry call mystifications, and 
richly deserve the attention of the police. In fine, this very 
honest man, Mr. Wasp, who boasts he never was in the 
galleys, is troubled with a lethargy, which renders him 
insensible to the clearest truths, and out of which he can 
be drawn only by certain violent means, which he sustains 
with a resignation and courage above conception. I have 
worked for some time under this celebrated genius ; I am 
become an eminent writer in my turn, and I had but just 
quitted Mr. Wasp to do a little for myself, when I had the 
honour of paying you a visit at Paris." " Though you are 
a very great cheat, Mr. Abbe, yet your sincerity in this 
point makes some impression upon me. Go to Court ; ask 
for the Rev. Ed-Ivan-Baal-Denk ; I shall write to him in 
your behalf, but upon express condition that you promise 
me to become an honest man ; and that you will not be the 
occasion of some thousands having their throats cut for the 
sake of a little silk and cotton." The Abbe promised all 
that Candide required, and they parted very good friends. 



Candidas Disgraces, Travels, and Adventures. 

No sooner had the Abbe" gotten access to Court than he 
employed all his skill in order to ingratiate himself with 
the minister and ruin his benefactor. He spread a report that 
Candide was a traitor, and that he had spoken disrespect- 
fully of the hallowed whiskers of the king of kings. All 
the courtiers condemned him to be burnt in a slow fire ; 
but the Sophi, more favourable, only sentenced him to 
perpetual banishment, after having previously kissed the 
sole of his accuser's foot, according to the usage among the 
Persians. The Abbe went in person to put the sentence in 
execution ; he found our philosopher in pretty good health, 
and disposed to become again happy. " My friend," says the 
English ambassador to him, " I come with regret to let you 
know that you must quit this kingdom with all expedition, 
and kiss my feet with a true repentance for your horrid 
crimes." " Kiss your feet, Mr. Abbe ! Certainly you are 
not in earnest, and I do not understand joking." Upon 
which some mutes, who had attended the Abbe, entered and 
took off his shoes, letting poor Candide know by signs that 
he must submit to this piece of humiliation, or else expect 
to be impaled. Candide, by virtue of his free will, kissed 
the Abbe's feet. They put him on a sorry linen robe, and 
the executioner drove him out of the town, crying all the 
time, " Behold a traitor who has spoken irreverently of the 
Sophi's whiskers ! Irreverently of the imperial whiskers ! " 

What did the officious monk while his friend whom he 
protected was treated thus ] I know nothing of that. It is 
probable that he was tired of protecting Candide. Who can 
depend on the favour of kings, and especially that of monks ? 

In the meantime our hero went melancholy on. "I 
never spoke," said he to himself, " about the King of Persia's, 
whiskers. I am cast in an instant from the pinnacle of 

C AND IDE, 141 

happiness into the abyss of misery, because a wretch who 
has violated all laws accuses me of a pretended crime which 
I have never committed ; and this wretch, this monster, this 
persecutor of virtue he is happy." 

Candide, after travelling for some days, found himself 
upon the frontiers of Turkey. He directed his course 
towards the Propontis, with a design to settle there again, 
and pass the rest of his days in the cultivation of his garden. 
He saw as he entered a little village a great multitude of 
people tumultuously assembled ; he inquired into the 
cause of it. "This," says an old man to him, " is an accident 
pretty singular. It is some time ago since the wealthy 
Mahomet demanded in marriage the daughter of the 
janissary Zamoud : he found her not to be honest, and 
in pursuance of a principle quite natural, and authorized by 
the laws, he sent her home to her father, after having 
branded her in the face. Zamoud, exasperated at the 
disgrace brought on his family, in the first transports of a 
fury that is very natural, with one stroke of his scimitar 
clove the disfigured visage of his daughter. His eldest son, 
who loved his sister passionately and this is very frequent 
in nature flew upon his father, and plunged, quite naturally 
too, a very sharp poignard to his heart. Afterwards, like a 
lion who grows more enraged at seeing his own blood flow, 
the furious Zamoud ran to Mahomet's house, and after 
striking to the ground some slaves who opposed his passage, 
murdered Mahomet, his wives, and two children then in the 
cradle, all of which was very natural, considering the violent 
situation he then was in. At last, to crown all, he killed 
himself with the same poignard, reeking with the blood of 
his father and his enemies, which is also very natural." 
" What a scene of horrors ! " cried Candide. " What would 
you have said, Master Pangloss, had you found such barbari- 
ties in nature ? Would not you acknowledge that nature 
is corrupted, that all is not." " No," says the old man, 



" for the pre-established harmony." " O heavens ! do ye 
not deceive me? Is this Pangloss," says Candide, " whom 
I again see? " " The very same," answered the old man ; 
" I knew you, but I was willing to find out your sentiments 
before I would discover myself. Come, let us discourse a 
little on contingent effects, and see if you have made any 
progress in the art of wisdom." " Alas ! " says Candide, 
" you choose your time improperly ; rather let me know what 
is become of Miss Cunegund ; tell me where are Brother 
Giroflee, Pacquette, and Pope Urban's daughter." " I know 
nothing of them," says Pangloss ; "it is now two years since 
I left our habitation in order to find you out. I have 
travelled over almost all Turkey ; I was upon the point of 
setting out for the Court of Persia, where I heard you made 
a great figure ; and I only tarried in this little village among 
these good people, till I had gathered strength for con- 
tinuing my journey." " What is this, I see ? " answered 
Candide, quite surprised. " You want an arm, my dear 
doctor." " That is nothing," says the one-handed and one- 
eyed doctor; "nothing is more common in the best of 
worlds than to see persons who want one eye and one arm. 
This accident befell me in a journey from Mecca. Our 
caravan was attacked by a troop of Arabs ; our guard 
attempted to make resistance, and, according to the rules 
of war, the Arabs, who found themselves to be the strongest 
side, massacred us all without mercy. There perished about 
five hundred persons in this attack, among whom was about 
a dozen of women. For my part 1 had only my skull split 
and an arm cut off; I did not die for all this, and I still 
found that everything went for the best. But as for your- 
self, my dear Candide, whence is it that you have a wooden 
leg?" Upon this Candide began and gave an account of 
his adventures. Our philosophers turned together towards 
the Propontis, and enlivened their journey by discoursing 
on physical and moral evil, free-will and predestination, 
monads and pre-established harmony. 



Candide and Pangloss arrive in the Propontis ; what they 
saw there, and what became of them. 

" O CANDIDE !" said Pangloss, " why were you tired of culti- 
vating your garden ? Why did we not still continue to eat 
citrons and pistachio-nuts ? Why were you weary of your 
happiness ? Because everything is necessary in the best of 
worlds, there was a necessity that you should undergo the 
bastinado in the presence of the King of Persia ; have your 
leg cut off in order to make Chusistan happy ; to experience 
the ingratitude of men ; and draw down upon the heads of 
some atrocious villains the punishment which they had 
deserved." With such talk as this they arrived at their old 
habitation. The first objects that presented themselves 
were Martin and Pacquette in the habit of slaves. " Whence," 
said Candide to them, " is this metamorphosis ? " after em- 
bracing them tenderly. " Alas ! " answered they, sobbing, 
" you have no more a habitation ; another has undertaken 
the labour of cultivating your garden ; he eats your pre- 
served citrons and pistachios, and we are treated like 
negroes." " Who," says Candide, " is this other ? " " The 
High Admiral," answered they j " a mortal the least humane 
of all mortals. The Sultan, willing to recompense his 
services without putting himself to any expense, has con- 
fiscated all your goods, under pretext that you had gone over 
to his enemies, and condemned us to slavery. Be advised 
by me, Candide," added Martin, " and continue your 
journey. I always told you everything is for the worst ; the 
sum of evil exceeds by much that of good. Begone, and 
I do not despair but you may become a Manicheean, if you 
are not so already." Pangloss would have begun an argu- 
ment in form, but Candide interrupted him to ask about Miss 
Cunegund, the old woman, Brother Giroflee, and Cacambo. 
" Cacambo," answered Martin, '* is here ; he is at present 


employed about emptying a house of office. The old woman 
is dead, from a kick given her by a eunuch in the breast. 
Brother Giroflee has entered among the janissaries. Miss 
Cunegund has recovered her plumpness and former beauty ; 
she is in our master's seraglio." " What a chain of mis- 
fortunes," says Candide. " Was there a necessity for Miss 
Cunegund to become handsome only to make me miser- 
able ? " " It matters little," says Pangloss, " whether Miss 
Cunegund be beautiful or ugly in your house or that of 
another ; that is nothing to the general system ; for my 
part, I wish her a numerous progeny. Philosophers do not 
perplex themselves by whom women have children, provided 
they have. them. Population." " Alas ! " says Martin, 
philosophers ought much rather to employ themselves in 
rendering a few individuals happy, than in engaging them 
to multiply the number of sufferers." While they were thus 
arguing a great noise was heard on a sudden ; it was the 
Admiral diverting himself by causing a dozen slaves to be 
whipped. Pangloss and Candide, both frightened, with tears 
in their eyes, parted from their friends, and in all haste took 
the road towards Constantinople. 

There they found all the people in a great stir. A fire 
had broken out in the suburb of Pera ; five or six hundred 
houses were already consumed, and two or three thousand 
persons perished in the flames. " What a horrible disaster ! " 
cried Candide. " All is well," says Pangloss. " These 
little accidents happen every year. It is entirely natural 
for the fire to catch houses built of wood, and for those who 
are in them to be burnt. Besides, this procures some re- 
sources to honest people who languish in misery." " What 
is this I hear ? " says an officer of the Sublime Porte. 
" How, wretch, darest thou say that all is well when half 
Constantinople is in flames ! Dog, be cursed of our Pro- 
phet ! Receive the punishment due to thy impudence ! " 
And as he uttered these words he took Pangloss by the 


middle and flung him headlong into the flames. Candida, 
half-dead with fright, crept on all-fours as well as he could 
to a neighbouring quarter, where all was more quiet ; and we 
shall see what became of him in the next chapter. 


Candide continues his Travels, and in ivhat quality. 

" I HAVE nothing left," said our philosopher, " but to 
make myself either a slave or a Turk. Happiness has for- 
saken me for ever. A turban would corrupt all my pleasures. 
I shall be incapable of tasting tranquillity of soul in a religion 
full of imposture, into which I enter merely from a motive of 
vile interest. No, I shall never be content if I cease to be 
an honest man. Let me make myself, then, a slave." 
Candide had no sooner taken this resolution than he set 
about putting it into execution. He chose an Armenian 
merchant for his master, who was a man of a very good 
character, and passed for virtuous as much as an Armenian 
can be. He gave Candide two hundred sequins as the price 
of his liberty. The Armenian was upon the point of depart- 
ing for Norway. He took Candide with him, in hopes 
that a philosopher would be of use to him in his traffic. 
They embarked, and the wind was so favourable for them 
that they were not above half the usual time in their passage. 
They even had no occasion for buying a wind from the Lap- 
land witches, and contented themselves with giving them 
some stock-fish, that they might not disturb their good for- 
tune with their enchantments, which sometimes happens, if 
we may believe Moreri's Dictionary on this head. 

The Armenian no sooner landed than he provided a stock 
of whale-blubber, and ordered our philosopher to go over all 
the country to buy him some dried salt fish. He acquitted 
himself of his commission in the best manner he could, re- 
turned with several reindeer loaded with this merchandize, 

146 C 'AND IDE. 

and made profound reflections on the astonishing difference 
which is to be found between the Laplanders and other 
men. A very diminutive female Laplander, whose head 
was a little bigger than her body, her eyes red and full* of 
fire, a flat nose, and mouth as wide as possible, wished him 
a good day with an infinite grace. " My little lord," says 
this being (a foot and ten inches high) to him, " I think 
you very handsome ; do me the favour to love me a little." 
So saying, she flew to him, and caught him round the neck. 
Candide pushed her away with horror. She cries out, when 
in comes her husband with several other Laplanders. " What 
is the meaning of all this uproar?" say they. "It is," 

answers the little thing, " that this stranger Alas ! I am 

choked with grief; he despises me." " So then," says the 
Lapland husband, "thou unpolite, dishonest, brutal, in- 
famous, cowardly rascal, thou bringest disgrace upon my 
house ; thou dost me the most sensible injury ; thou refusest 
to admire my wife." " Lo ! here's the good of our neigh- 
bour," cried our hero ; " what would you have said, then, if 
I had taken your place ?" "I would have wished thee all 
sort of prosperity," says the Laplander to him in wrath, " but 
thou only deservest my indignation." At uttering this, he 
discharged on Candide's back a volley of blows with a 
cudgel. The reindeer were seized by the relations of the 
offended husband; and Candide, for fear of worse, was 
forced to betake himself to flight, and renounce for ever his 
good master ; for how dared he present himself before him 
without money, whale-blubber, or reindeer? 


Candide still continues his Travels. New Adventures. 
CANDIDE travelled a long time without knowing whither he 
was going ; at length he resolved to go to Denmark, where 
he had heard that everything went pretty well. He had a 



few pieces of money about him, which the Armenian had 
made him a present of; and this sum, though inconsiderable, 
he hoped would carry him to the end of his journey. Hope 
rendered his misery supportable to him, and he still passed 
some happy moments. He found himself one day in an 
inn with three travellers, who talked to him with great 
warmth about a plenum and the materia subtilis. " Mighty 
well," says Candide to himself ; " these are philosophers. 
Gentlemen," says he to them, " a plenum is incontestable ; 
there is no vacuum in nature, and the materia subtilis is a 
well-imagined hypothesis." "You are then a Cartesian?" 
say the three travellers. " Yes," answers Candide, " and 
a Leibnitzian, which is more." " So much the worse for 
you," replied the philosophers. " Descartes and Leibnitz 
had not common sense. We are Newtonians, and we glory 
in it ; if we dispute, it is only the better to confirm ourselves 
in our opinions, and we all think the same. We search for 
truth in Newton's track, because we are persuaded that Newton 
is a great man." "And Descartes too, and Leibnitz and Pan- 
gloss likewise," says Candide. " These great men are worth a 
thousand of yours." " You are a fool, friend," answered 
the philosophers. "Do you know the laws of refraction, 
attraction, and motion? Have you read the truths which 
Dr. Clarke has published, in answer to the reveries of your 
Leibnitz ? Do you know what centrifugal and centripetal 
force is ? and that colours depend on their density ? Have 
you any notion of the theory of light and gravitation ? Do 
you know the period of twenty-five thousand nine hundred 
and twenty years, which unluckily do not agree with chro- 
nology ? No ; undoubtedly you have but false ideas of all 
these things. Peace, then, thou contemptible monad, and 
beware how you insult giants by comparing them to 
pigmies." "Gentlemen," answered Candide, "were Pan- 
gloss here, he would tell you very fine things, for he is a 
great philosopher. He has a sovereign contempt for your 


Newton ; and, as I am his disciple, I likewise make no 
great account of him." The philosophers, enraged beyond 
measure, fell upon poor Candide, and drubbed him most 

Their wrath subsiding, they asked our hero's pardon for 
their too great warmth. Upon this, one of them began a 
very fine harangue on milduess and moderation. 

While they were talking, they saw a grand burial pass by. 
Our philosophers from thence took occasion to descant on 
the foolish vanity of man. " Would it not be more reason- 
able," says one of them, " that the relations and friends of 
the deceased should, without pomp and noise, carry the bier 
themselves ? Would not this funereal act, by presenting to 
them the idea of death, produce an effect the most salutary, 
the most philosophical ? This reflection which would offer 
itself, namely, the body I carry is that of my friend, my rela- 
tion ; he is no more ; and, like him, I must cease to be in this 
world. Would not this, I say, be a means of lessening the 
number of crimes in this vile world, and of bringing back 
to virtue beings who believe the immortality of the soul ? 
Men are too much inclined to remove from them the 
thoughts of death for fear of presenting too strong images 
of it. Whence is it that people keep at a distance from such 
a spectacle as a mother and a wife in tears ? The plaintive 
accents of nature, the piercing cries of despair, would do 
much greater honour to the ashes of the dead than all these 
individuals clad in black from head to foot, together with 
useless female mourners, and that crowd of ministers who 
sing in a gay air funeral orations which the deceased do not 

" This is extremely well spoken," says Candide, " and did 
you always speak thus well, without thinking proper to 
thrash people, you would be a great philosopher." 

Our travellers parted with expressions of mutual confi- 
dence and friendship. Candide still continued travelling 



towards Denmark. He plunged into the woods, where, 
musing deeply on all the misfortunes which had happened 
to him in the best of worlds, he turned aside from the road 
and lost himself. The day began to draw towards the 
evening, when he perceived his mistake. He was seized 
with dismay, and raising in a melancholy manner his eyes to 
heaven, and leaning against the trunk of a tree, our hero 
spoke in the following terms : " I have gone over half the 
world, seen fraud and calumny triumphant, have only sought 
to do service to mankind, and I have been persecuted. A 
great king honours me with his favour and fifty blows of a 
bull's pizzle. I arrive with a wooden leg in a very fine 
province ; there I taste pleasures after having drank deep of 
mortifications. An abbe comes ; I protect him ; he insinuates 
himself at Court through my means, and I am obliged to kiss 
his feet. I meet with my poor Pangloss only to see him 
burnt. I find myself in company with philosophers, the 
mildest and most sociable of all the species of animals that 
are spread over the face of the earth, and they give me an 
unmerciful drubbing. All must necessarily be for the best, 
since Pangloss has said it ; but nevertheless I am the most 
wretched of all possible beings." Here Candide stopped 
short to listen to the cries of distress, which seemed to come 
from a place near him. He stepped forward out of curiosity, 
when he beheld a young woman, who was tearing her hair 
with all the signs of the greatest despair. " Whoever you 
are," says she to him, " if you have a heart, follow me." He 
went with her, but they had not gone many paces before 
Candide perceived a man and a woman stretched out on 
the grass. Their faces declared the nobleness of their souls 
and origin. Their features, though distorted by pain, had 
something so interesting that Candide could not forbear 
bemoaning them, and informing himself with a lively eager- 
ness about the cause which reduced them to so miserable a 
situation. " It is my father and mother whom you see," 

150 C AND IDE, 

says the young woman. " Yes, these are the authors of my 
wretched being," continued she, throwing herself into their 
arms. " They fled to avoid the rigour of an unjust sentence. 
I accompanied them in their flight, happy to share in their 
misfortune, from a thought that in the deserts where we were 
going to hide ourselves my feeble hands might procure them 
a necessary subsistence. We have stopped here to take some 
rest. I discovered that tree which you see, whose fruit has 
deceived me. Alas ! sir, I am a wretch to be detested by 
the world and myself. Arm your hand to avenge offended 
virtue, and to punish the parricide. I took this fruit ; I 
presented it to my father and mother ; they ate of it with 
pleasure ; I rejoiced to have found the means of quenching 
the thirst with which they were tormented. Unhappy wretch ! 
it was death I presented to them. This fruit is poison." 

This tale made Candide shudder ; his hair stood on end, 
and a cold sweat ran over all his body. He was eager, 
as much as his present condition could permit, to give 
some relief to this unfortunate family ; but the poison had 
already made too much progress, and the most efficacious 
remedies would not have been able to stop its fatal effect. 

" Dear child, our only hope ! " cried the two unhappy 
parents ; " God pardon thee as we pardon thee; it was the 
excess of thy tenderness which has robbed us of our lives. 
Generous stranger, vouchsafe to take care of her; her heart 
is noble and formed to virtue ; she is a deposit which we 
leave in your hands, that is infinitely more precious to us 
than our past fortune. Dear Zenoida, receive our last 
embraces : mingle thy tears with ours. Heavens ! how 
happy are these moments to us ! Thou hast opened to us 
the dreary cave in which we languished for forty years past. 
Tender Zenoida, we bless thee ; mayest thou never forget 
the lessons which our prudence hath dictated to thee ; and 
may they preserve thee from the abyss which we see ready 
to swallow thee." 


They expired as they pronounced these words. Candide 
had great difficulty in bringing Zenoida to herself. The 
moon enlightened the affecting scene : the day appeared, 
and Zenoida, plunged in sad affliction, had not as yet re- 
covered the use of her senses. As soon as she opened her 
eyes, she entreated Candide to dig a hole in the ground in 
order to inter the bodies ; she assisted in the work with an 
astonishing courage. This duty fulfilled, she gave free 
scope to her tears. Our philosopher drew her from this 
fatal place : they travelled a long time without observing 
any certain route. At length they perceived a little 
cottage. Two persons in the decline of life dwelt in this 
desert, who were always ready to give every assistance 
in their power to fellow-creatures in distress. These old 
people were such as Philemon and Baucis are described 
to us. For fifty years they had tasted the soft endearments 
of marriage, without ever experiencing its bitterness ; an 
unimpaired health, the fruit of temperance and tranquillity 
of mind, mild and simple manners ; a fund of inexhaustible 
candour in their character all the virtues which man owes 
to himself, formed the glorious and only fortune which 
heaven had granted them. They were held in veneration 
in the neighbouring villages, the inhabitants of which, full 
of happy rusticity, might have passed for honest people, 
had they been Catholics. They looked upon it as a 
duty not to suffer Agaton and Suname (for so the old 
couple were called) to want for anything. Their charity 
extended to the new-comers. l( Alas ! " said Candide, " it 
is a great loss, my dear Pangloss, that you were burnt. You 
were master of sound reason ; but yet in all the parts of 
Europe and Asia, which I have travelled over in your 
company, everything is not for the best : it is only in 
El Dorado, whither no one can go, and in a little cottage 
situated in the coldest, most barren, and frightful region in 
the world. What pleasure should I have to hear you 


harangue about the pre-established harmony and monads ! " 
I should be very willing to pass my days among these 
honest Lutherans ; but I must renounce going to mass, and 
resolve to be torn to pieces in the Journal chretien. 

Candide was very inquisitive to learn the adventures of 
Zenoida, but complaisance withheld him from speaking to 
her about it. She perceived the respectful constraint he 
put upon himself, and satisfied his impatience in the follow- 
ing terms. 


The history of Zenoida. How Candide fell in love with 
her, and what followed. 

" I AM come of one of the most ancient families in Denmark. 
One of my ancestors perished at that horrid feast which the 
wicked Christiern prepared for the destruction of so many 
senators. The riches and dignity with which our family has 
been distinguished have hitherto served only to make them 
more eminently unfortunate, My father had the presumption 
to displease a great man in power by boldly telling him the 
truth. He was presently accused by suborned witnesses of 
a number of crimes which had no foundation. His judges 
were deceived. Alas ! where is that judge who can always 
discover those snares which envy and treachery lay for un- 
guarded innocence ? My father was sentenced to be be- 
headed. He had no way left to avoid his fate but by flight. 
Accordingly, he withdrew to the house of an old friend, 
whom he thought deserving of that truly noble appellation. 
We remained some time concealed in a castle belonging to 
him on the seaside, and we might have continued there to 
this day had not the base wretch with whom we had taken 
refuge attempted to repay himself for the service he did us 
in a manner that gave us all reason to detest him. This 
infamous monster had conceived a most unnatural passion 
towards my mother and myself at the same time. He 

CANDID E. 153 

attempted our ruin by methods most umvorthy of a man of 
honour ; and we were obliged to expose ourselves to the 
most dreadful dangers to avoid the effects of his brutal 
passion. In a word, we took to flight a second time, and 
you know the rest." 

In finishing this short narrative, Zenoida burst into tears 
afresh. Candide wiped them from her eyes, and said to her, by 
way of consolation, " Madam, everything is for the best. If 
your father had not died by poison he would infallibly have 
been discovered, and then his head would have been cut off. 
The good lady your mother would, in all probability, have 
died of grief, and we should not have been in this poor hut, 
where everything is as well as in the finest of possible castles." 
" Alas, sir," replied Zenoida, " my father never told me that 
everything was for the best, but he has often said, ' We are 
all children of the same Divine Father, who loves us, but 
who has not exempted us from the most callous sorrows, 
the most grievous maladies, and an innumerable tribe of 
miseries that afflict the human race. Poison grows by the 
side of the salutiferous quinquina in America. The happiest 
of all mortals has some time or other shed tears. What we 
call life is a compound of pleasure and pain. It is the pass- 
ing away of a certain stated portion of time that always 
appears too long in the sight of the wise man, and which 
every one ought to employ in doing good to the community 
in which he is placed ; in the enjoyment of the works of 
Providence, without idly seeking after hidden causes ; in 
squaring his conduct by the rules of conscience ; and, above 
all, in showing a due respect to religion. Happy is he who 
can follow this unerringly ! ' 

"These things my ever-respected father has frequently 
inculcated to me. ' Ill-betide those wretched scribblers,' 
he would say, ' who attempt to pry into the hidden ways of 
Providence.' From the principle, that God will be honoured 
from thousands of atoms, mankind have blended the most 



absurd chimeras with respectable truths. The Turkish 
dervish, the Persian brahmin, the Chinese bonza, and the 
Indian talapoin, all worship the Deity in a different manner ; 
but they enjoy a tranquillity of soul amidst the darkness in 
which they are plunged ; and he who would endeavour to 
enlighten them does them but ill service. It is not loving 
mankind to tear the bandage of prejudice from their eyes." 

" Why, you talk like a philosopher," said Candide : " may 
I ask you, my pretty young lady, of what religion you are ? " 
" I was brought up in the Lutheran profession," answered 
Zenoida. " Every word you have spoken," said Candide, 
" has been like a ray of light that has penetrated to my heart, 

and I find a sort of esteem and admiration for you, that 

But how, in the name of wonder, came so bright an under- 
standing to be lodged in so beautiful a form ? Upon my 
word, Miss, I esteem and admire you, as I said before, so 

much that " Candide stammered out a few words more, 

when Zenoida, perceiving his confusion, quitted him, and 
from that moment carefully avoided all occasions of being 
alone with him : and Candide, on his part, sought every 
opportunity of being alone with her, or else being by him- 
self. He was buried in a melancholy that to him had 
charms, he was deeply enamoured of Zenoida; but en- 
deavoured to conceal his passion from himself: his looks, 
however, too plainly evinced the feelings of his heart. 
" Alas ! '' would he often say to himself, " if Master Pangloss 
was here he would give me good advice ; for he was a 
great philosopher." 



Continuation of the Loves of Candida. 

THE only consolation that Candida felt was in conversing 
with Zenoida in the presence of their hosts. 

" How happens it," said he to her one day, " that the 
monarch to whom you have access has suffered such injus- 
tice to be done to your family ? Assuredly you have suffi- 
cient reason to hate him ? " 

" How ! " said Zenoida, " who can hate the king ? who 
can do otherwise than love that person to whose hand is 
consigned the keen-edged sword of the laws ? Kings are 
the living images of the Deity, and we ought never to 
arraign their conduct ; obedience and respect is the duty of 
a subject." 

"I admire you more and more, "said Candide; "indeed, 
madam, I do. Pray do you know the great Leibnitz, and 
the great Pangloss, who was burnt, after having escaped a 
hanging bout ? Are you acquainted with the monads, the 
materia subtilis, and the vortices ? " 

"No, sir," replied Zenoida; " I never heard my father 
mention any of these ; he only gave me a slight tincture 
of experimental philosophy, and taught me to hold in 
contempt all those kinds of philosophy that do not 
directly tend to make mankind happy ; that give him false 
notions of his duty to himself and his neighbour ; that 
do not teach him to regulate his conduct, and fill his 
mind only with uncouth terms or ill-founded conjectures ; 
that do not give him a clearer idea of the Author of Nature 
than what he may acquire from his works, and the wonders 
that are every day passing before our sight." 

" Once again, Miss, you enchant me ; you ravish me ; you 
are an angel that heaven has sent to remove from before my 

156 C AND WE. 

eyes the mist of Master Pangloss's sophistical arguments. 
Poor wretch that I was ! After having been so heartily 
kicked, flogged, and bastinadoed ; after having been in an 
earthquake ; having seen Doctor Pangloss once hanged, and 
very lately burnt ; after having been ravished by a villainous 
Persian, who put me to the most excruciating torture ; after 
having been robbed by a decree of the divan, and soundly 
drubbed by the philosophers ; after all these things, I say, to 
think that everything was for the best ! But now, thank 
heaven, I am disabused. But, truly speaking, nature never 
appeared half so charming to me as since I have been 
blessed with the sight of you. The melody of the rural 
choristers charms my ears with a harmony to which they 
were till now utter strangers ; I breathe a new soul, and the 
glow of sentiment that enchants me seems imprinted on 
every object ; I do not feel that effeminate languor which I 
did in the gardens of Sus; the sensation with which you 
inspire me is wholly different." 

" Let us stop here," said Zenoida ; " you seem to be 
running to lengths that may perhaps offend my delicacy, 
which you ought to respect." 

" I will be silent then," said Candide ; " but my passion 
will only burn with the more force." On saying these 
words he looked stedfastly at Zenoida ; he perceived her to 
blush, and, as a man who was taught by experience, con- 
ceived the most flattering hopes from those appearances. 

The beautiful Dane continued a long time to shun the 
pursuits of Candide. One day, as he was walking hastily 
to and fro in the garden, he cried out in an amorous 
ecstasy, " Ah ! why have I not now my El Dorado sheep ? 
Why have I it not in my power to purchase a small kingdom ? 
Ah ! were I but a king " 

" What should I be to you ? " said a voice which pierced 
the heart of our philosopher. 

C AND IDE. 157 

u Is it you, lovely Zenoida ? " cried he, falling on his 
knees. " I thought myself alone. The few words I heard you 
just now utter seem to promise me the felicity to which my 
soul aspires. I shall, in all probability, be a king, nor 

ever possessed of a fortune ; but if you love me Do 

not turn from me those lovely eyes, but suffer me to read 
in them a declaration which is alone capable of confirming 
my happiness. Beauteous Zenoida, I adore you ; let your 
heart be open to compassion. What do I see ? You weep ! 
Ah ! my happiness is too great." 

"Yes, you are happy," said Zenoida; "nothing can 
oblige me to disguise my tenderness for a person I think 
deserving of it. Hitherto you have been attached to my 
destiny only by the bands of humanity ; it is now time to 
strengthen those by ties more sacred. I have consulted 
my heart, reflect maturely in your turn ; but remember, 
that if you marry me, you become obliged to be my pro- 
tector : to share with me those misfortunes that fate may 
yet have in store for me, and to soothe my sorrows." 

" Marry you ! " said Candide : " those words have shown 
me all the folly of my conduct. Alas ! dear idol of my soul, 
I am not deserving of the goodness you show towards me. 
Cunegund is still living." 

" Cunegund ! Who is that ? " 

" She is my wife," answered Candide with his usual frank- 

But I will forbear to relate the whole of the interesting con- 
versation, and content myself with saying that the eloquence 
of Candide, heightened by the warmth of amorous expres- 
sion, had all the effect that may be imagined on a young 
sensible female philosopher. 

The lovers, who till then had passed their days in tedious 
melancholy, now counted every hour by a fresh succession 
of amorous joys. Pleasure flowed through their veins in an 


uninterrupted current. The gloomy woods, the barren 
mountains, surrounded by horrid precipices ; the icy plains 
and dreary fields, covered with snow on all sides, were so 
many continual mementos to them of the necessity of 
loving. They determined never to quit that dreadful 
solitude, but fate was not yet weary of persecuting them, 
as we shall see in the ensuing chapter. 


The Arrival of Wolhall, A Joiirney to Copenhagen. 

CANDIDE and Zenoida amused themselves with discoursing 
on the words of the Deity, the worship which mankind 
ought to pay Him, the mutual duties they owe to each other, 
especially that of charity, the most useful of all virtues. 
They did not confine themselves to frivolous declamations. 
Candide taught the young men the respect due to the sacred 
curb of the laws ; Zenoida instructed the young women in 
the duties they owed their parents; both joined their endea- 
vours to sow the hopeful seeds of religion in their young 
hearts. One day, as they were busied in those pious offices, 
Sunama came to tell Zenoida that an old gentleman with 
several servants was just alighted at their house ; and that, 
by the description he had given her of a person of whom he 
was in search, she was certain it could be no other than 
Zenoida herself. This stranger had followed Sunama close 
at her heels, and entered, before she had done speaking, 
into the room where were Candide and Zenoida. 

At sight of him Zenoida instantly fainted away; but 
Wolhall, not in the least affected with the situation he saw 
her in, took hold of her hand, and pulling her to him with 
violence, brought her to her senses; which she had no 
sooner recovered than she burst into a flood of tears. 


" So, niece," said he, with a sarcastic smile, " I find you 
in very good company. I do not wonder you prefer this 
habitation to the capital, to my house, and the company 
of your family." " Yes, sir," replied Zenoida, " I do prefer 
this place, where dwell simplicity and truth, to the mansions 
of treason and imposture. I can never behold but with 
horror that place where first began my misfortunes ; where I 
have had so many proofs of your black actions, and where 
I have no other relations but yourself." " Come, madam," 
said Wolhall, " follow me, if you please ;-for you must along, 
even if you should faint again." Saying this, he dragged 
her to the door of the house, and made her get into a post- 
chaise which was waiting for him. She had only time to tell 
Candide to follow, and to bestow her blessing on her hosts, 
with promises of rewarding them amply for their generous 

A domestic of Wolhall was moved with pity at the grief 
in which he saw Candide plunged ; he imagined that he felt 
no other concern for the fair Dane than what unfortunate 
virtue inspires. He proposed to him taking a journey to 
Copenhagen, and he facilitated the means for his doing 
it. He did more ; he insinuated to him that he might be 
admitted as one of Wolhall's domestics, if he had no other 
resources than going to service. Candide liked his pro- 
posal ; and no sooner arrived than his future fellow- servant 
presented him as one of his relations, for whom he would 
be answerable. " Rascal," says Wolhall to him, " I consent 
to grant you the honour of approaching a person of such 
rank as I am ; never forget the profound respect which you 
owe to my commands ; prevent them if you have sufficient 
sagacity for it ; think that a man like me degrades himself 
in speaking to a wretch such as you." Our philosopher 
answered with great humility to this impertinent discourse, 
and from that day he was clad in his master's livery. 

It is easy to imagine the joy and surprise that Zenoida felt 


when she recollected her lover among her uncle's servants. 
She threw several opportunities in the way of Candide, who 
knew how to profit by them. They swore eternal constancy. 
Zenoida had some unhappy moments ; she sometimes 
reproached herself on account of her love for Candide ; she 
vexed him sometimes by a few caprices ; but Candide idolized 
her ; he knew that perfection is not the portion of man, and 
still less so of woman. Zenoida resumed her good humour. 
The kind of constraint under which they lay rendered their 
pleasures more lively. They were still happy. 


How Candide found his Wife again, and lost his Mistress. 

OUR hero had only to bear with the haughty humours of his 
master, and that was purchasing his mistress's favours at no 
dear rate. Happy love is not so easily concealed as many 
imagine. Our lovers betrayed themselves. Their connection 
was no longer a mystery but to the short-sighted eyes of 
Wolhall. All the domestics knew it. Candide received 
congratulations on that head which made him tremble. He 
expected the storm ready to burst upon his head, and did 
not doubt but a person who had been dear to him was upon 
the point of accelerating his misfortune. He had for some 
days before perceived a face resembling Miss Cunegund ; 
he again saw the same face in Wolhall's courtyard. The 
object which struck him was very poorly clothed, and there 
was no likelihood that a favourite of a great Mahometan 
should be found in the courtyard of a house at Copenhagen. 
This disagreeable object, however, looked at Candide very 
attentively. When coming up to him, and seizing him by 
the hair, she gave him the smartest blow on the face with her 
open hand that he had received for some time. " I am not 
deceived," cried our philosopher. " Oh, heavens ! who would 

CANDID E. 161 

have thought it ? What do you do here after having suffered 
yourself to be adopted by a follower of Mahomet. Go, per- 
fidious spouse, I know you not." " Thou shalt know me," 
replied Cunegund, " by ray outrageous fury. I know the life 
thou leadest, thy love for thy master's niece, and thy con- 
tempt for me. Alas ! it is now three months since I quitted 
the seraglio, because I was there good for nothing further. 
A merchant has bought me to mend his linen ; he takes me 
along with him when he makes a voyage to this country ; 
Martin, Cacambo, and Pacquette, whom he has also bought, 
are with me ; Doctor Pangloss, through the greatest chance 
in the world, was in the same vessel as a passenger ; we were 
shipwrecked some miles from hence ; I escaped the danger 
with the faithful Cacambo, who, I swear to thee, has a skin 
as firm as thy own. I behold thee again, and find thee 
false. Tremble, then, and fear everything from a provoked 

Candide was quite stupefied at this affecting scene ; he had 
suffered Cunegund to depart without thinking of the proper 
measures which are always to be kept with those who know 
our secrets, when Cacambo presented himself to his sight. 
They embraced each other with tenderness. Candide 
informed him of the conversation he had just had ; he was 
very much afflicted for the loss of the great Pangloss, who, 
after having been hanged and burnt, was at last unhapoily 
drowned. They spoke with that free effusion of heart which 
friendship inspires. A little billet thrown in at the window 
by Zenoida put an end to the conversation. Candide 
opened it, and found in it these words : 

" Fly, my dear lover ! All is discovered. An innocent in- 
clination, which Nature authorizes, and which hurts no one, is 
a crime in the eyes of credulous and cruel men. Wolhall has 
just left my chamber, and has treated me with the utmost, 
inhumanity. He is gone to obtain an order for thee to be. 
clapped into a dungeon, there to perish, Fly, my ever dear 

1 62 C AND IDE. 

lover ! Preserve a life which them canst not pass any longer 
near me. Those happy moments are no more in which we 
gave proofs of our reciprocal tenderness. Ah ! sad Zenoida, 
how hast thou offended Heaven to merit so rigorous a 
fate? But I wander from the purpose. Remember always 
thy precious, dear Zenoida, and thou, my dear lover, shalt 
live eternally within my heart. Thou hast never thoroughly 
understood how much I loved thee. Canst thou receive 
upon my lips my last adieu ? I find myself ready to join 
my unhappy father in the grave. The light is hateful to 
me; it serves only to reveal crimes." 

Cacambo, always wise and prudent, drew Candide, who 
no longer was himself, along with him. They made the best 
of their way out of the city. Candide opened not his mouth, 
and they were already a good way from Copenhagen before 
he was roused out of that lethargy in which he was buried. 
At last he looked at his faithful Cacambo, and spoke in these 


How Candide had a mind to kill himself, and did not do it. 
What happened to him at an inn. 

" DEAR CACAMBO formerly my valet, now my equal and 
always my friend thou hast borne a share in my misfor- 
tunes ; thou hast given me salutary advice ; and thou hast 

been witness to my love for Miss Cunegund " "Alas, 

my old master," says Cacambo, " it is she who has served 
you this scurvy trick ; it is she who, after having learned 
from your fellow-servants that your love for Zenoida was as 
great as hers for you, revealed the whole to the barbarous 
Wolhall." " If this is so," says Candide, " I have nothing 
further to do but die." Our philosopher pulled out of his 
pocket a little knife, and began whetting it with a coolness 
worthy of an ancient Roman or an Englishman. " What 

CANDID E. 163 

do you mean to do ? " says Cacambo " To cut my throat," 
answers Candide. " A most noble thought ! " replied 
Cacambo. " But the philosopher ought not to take any re- 
solution but upon reflection. You will always have it in your 
power to kill yourself if your mind does not alter. Be ad- 
vised by me, my dear master. Defer your resolution till 
to-morrow. The longer you delay it the more courageous 
will the action be." " I perceive the strength of thy reason- 
ing," says Candide. " Besides, if I should cut my throat 
immediately, the Gazetteer of Trevoux would insult rny 
memory. I am determined, therefore, that I will not kill 
myself till two or three days hence." As they talked thus they 
arrived at Elsinore, a pretty considerable town, not far from 
Copenhagen. There they lay that night, and Cacambo 
hugged himself for the good effect which sleep had produced 
on Candide. They left the town at daybreak. Candide, 
still the philosopher (for the prejudices of childhood are 
never effaced), entertained his friend Cacambo on the sub- 
ject of physical good and evil, the discourses of the sage 
Zenoida, and the striking truths which he had learned from 
her conversation. " Had not Pangloss been dead," said he, 
" I should combat his system in a victorious manner. God 
keep me from becoming a Manichaean ! My mistress taught 
me to respect the impenetrable veil with which the Deity 
envelopes his manner of operating upon us. It is perhaps 
man who precipitates himself into the abyss of misfortunes 
under which he groans. Of a frugivorous animal he has 
made himself a carnivorous one. The savages which we 
have seen eat only Jesuits, and do not live upon bad terms 
among themselves. These savages, if there be one scattered 
here and there in the woods, only subsisting by acorns and 
herbs, are, without doubt, still more happy. Society has 
given birth to the greatest crimes. There are men in society 
who are necessitated by their condition to wish the death of 
others. The shipwreck of a vessel, the burning of a house, 

F 2 


and the loss of a battle, cause sadness in one part of society 
and give joy to another. All is very bad, my dear Cacambo, 
and there is nothing left for a philosopher but to cut his own 
throat with all imaginable calmness." " You are in the 
right," says Cacambo. " But I perceive an inn ; you must 
be very dry. Come, my old master ; let us drink one 
draught, and we will after that continue our philosophical 

When they entered the inn they saw a company of country 
lads and lasses dancing in the midst of the yard to the 
sound of some wretched instruments. Gaiety and mirth sat 
in every countenance ; it was a scene worthy the pencil of 
Watteau. As soon as Candide appeared, a young woman 
took him by the hand and entreated him to dance. " My 
pretty maid," answered Candide, " when a person has lost 
his mistress, found his wife again, and heard that the great 
Pangloss is dead, he can have little or no inclination to cut 
capers. Moreover, I am to kill myself to-morrow morning ; 
and you know that a man who has but a few hours to live 
ought not to lose them in dancing." Cacambo, hearing 
Candide talk thus, addressed him in these terms : " A thirst 
for glory has always been the characteristic of great philo- 
sophers. Cato of Utica killed himself after having taken a 
sound nap; Socrates drank the hemlock potion after 
discoursing familiarly with his friends ; many of the English 
have blown their brains out with a pistol after coming from 
an entertainment ; but I never yet heard of a great man who 
cut his own throat after a dancing bout. It is for you, my 
dear master, that this honour is reserved. Take my advice ; 
let us dance our fill, and we will kill ourselves to-morrow." 
"Have you not remarked," answered Candide, "this young 
country girl? Is she not a very pretty brunette ?" "She 
has something very taking in her countenance," says 
Cacambo. " She has squeezed my hand," replied the 
philosopher. " Did you mind," says Cacambo, " how that 


in the hurry of the dance, her handkerchief falling aside, 
discovered a very pretty neck? I took particular notice 
of it." "Look you," said Candida, "had I not my 

heart filled with Miss Zenoida " The little brunette 

interrupted him by begging him to take one dance with her. 
Our hero at length consented and danced with the best 
grace in the world. The dance finished, he kissed his 
smart country girl and retired to his seat, without calling 
out the queen of the ring. Upon this a murmuring arose ; 
every one, as well performers as spectators, appeared greatly 
incensed at so flagrant a piece of disrespect. Candide 
never dreamed he had been guilty of any fault, and conse- 
quently did not attempt to make any reparation. A rude 
clown came up to him and gave him a blow with his fist 
upon the nose. Cacambo returns it to the peasant with 
a kick. In an instant the musical instruments are all 
broken ; the girls loose their caps ; Candide and Cacambo 
fight like heroes, but at length are obliged to take to their 
heels, after a very hearty drubbing. 

" Everything is embittered to me," said Candide, giving 
his arm to his friend Cacambo ; I have experienced a 
great many misfortunes, but I did not expect to be thus 
bruised to a mummy for my dancing with a country girl 
at her own request. 


Candide and Cacambo go into an Hospital, and whom 
they meet with there. 

CACAMBO and his old master were quite dispirited. They 
began to fall into that sort of malady of the mind which 
extinguishes all the faculties : they fell into a depression of 
spirits and despair, when they perceived an hospital which 
was built for strangers. Cacambo proposed going into it ; 
Candide followed him. There they met with the most 

1 66 CANDIDE. 

obliging reception and charitable treatment. In a little 
time they were cured of their wounds, but they caught the 
itch. The cure of this malady did not appear to be the 
work of a day, the idea of which filled the eyes of our philo- 
sopher with tears ; and he said, scratching himself, " Thou 
wouldst not let me cut my throat, my dear Cacambo ; thy 
misplaced counsels have brought me again into disgrace and 
misfortune ; and yet, should I cut my throat now, it will be 
published in the Journal of Trevoux, and it will be said this 
man was a poltroon, who killed himself only for having the 
itch. See what thou hast exposed me to by the mistaken 
compassion thou hadst for my fate." " Our disasters are not 
without remedy," answered Cacambo. " If you will but 
please to listen to me, let us settle here as friars ; I under- 
stand a little surgery, and I promise you to alleviate and 
render supportable our wretched condition." "Ah!" says 
Candide, "may all asses perish, and especially asses of 
surgeons, who are so dangerous to mankind. I will never 
suffer that thou shouldst give out thyself to be what thou 
art not. This is a treachery the consequences of which I 
dread. Besides, if thou didst but conceive how hard it is, 
after having been viceroy of a fine province, after having 
seen one's self rich enough to purchase kingdoms, and after 
having been the favourite lover of Zenoida, to resolve to 
serve in quality of friar in an hospital." " I conceive all that 
you say," replied Cacambo ; " but I also conceive that it is 
very hard to die of hunger. Think, moreover, that the 
expedient which I propose to you is perhaps the only one 
which you can take to elude the inquiries of the bloody- 
minded Wolhall, and avoid the punishment which he is pre- 
paring for you." 

One of the friars was passing along as they talked in this 
manner , they put some questions to him, to which he gave 
satisfactory answers. He assured them that the brothers 
wanted for nothing, and enjoyed a reasonable liberty. Can- 


dide thereupon determined to acquiesce with Cacambo's 
counsels. They took the habit together, which was granted 
them upon the first application ; and our two poor adven- 
turers now became underlings to those whose duty it was to 
perform the most servile offices. 

One day as Candide was serving the patients with some 
wretched broth, an old man fixed his eye earnestly upon 
him. The visage of this poor wretch was livid, his lips 
were covered with froth, his eyes half turned in his head, 
and the image of death strongly imprinted on his lean and 
fallen cheeks. " Poor man," says Candide to him, " I pity 
you; your sufferings must be horrible." "They are very 
great indeed," answered the old man with a hollow voice 
like a ghost; "I am told that I am hectical, phthisicky, 
asthmatic, and poxed to the bone. If that be the case, I am 
indeed very ill ; yet all does not go so badly, and this gives 
me comfort." "Ah!" says Candide, "none but Dr. Pan- 
gloss, in a case so deplorable, can maintain the doctrine 
of optimism when all others besides would preach up 

pessim " " Do not pronounce that abominable word," 

cried the poor man ; " I am the Pangloss you speak of. 
Wretch that I am, let me die in peace. All is well, all is 
for the best." The effort which he made in pronouncing 
these words cost him the last tooth, which he spat out with 
a great quantity of corrupted matter, and expired a very few 
moments after. 

Candide lamented him greatly, for he had a good heart. 
His obstinate perseverance was a source of reflection to our 
philosopher; he often called to mind all his adventures. 
Cunegund remained at Copenhagen, he learned that she 
exercised there the occupation of a mender of old clothes 
with all possible distinction. The humour of travelling had 
quite left him. The faithful Cacambo supported him with 
his counsels and friendship. Candide did not murmur 
against Providence : " I know," said he at times, " that 

1 68 CANDIDE. 

happiness is not the portion of man : happiness dwells only 
in the good country of El Dorado, where it is impossible for 
any one to go." 


New Discoveries. 

CANDIDE was not so unhappy, as he had a true friend. He 
found in a mongrel valet what the world vainly look for in our 
quarter of the globe. Perhaps nature, which gives origin to 
herbs in America that are proper for the maladies of bodies on 
our continent, has also placed remedies there for the maladies 
of our hearts and minds. Possibly there are men in the 
New World of a quite different conformation from us, who 
are not slaves to personal interests, and are worthy to burn 
with the noble fire of friendship. How desirable would it 
be, that instead of bales of indigo and cochineal all covered 
with blood, some of these men were imported among us ! 
This sort of traffic would be of vast advantage to mankind. 
Cacambo was of greater value to Candide than a dozen of 
red sheep loaded with the pebbles of El Dorado. Our 
philosopher began again to taste the pleasures of life. It 
was a comfort to him to watch for the conversation of the 
human species, and not to be a useless member of society. 
God blessed such pure intentions by giving him, as well as 
Cacambo, the enjoyment of health. They had got rid of 
the itch, and fulfilled with cheerfulness the painful functions 
of their station ; but fortune soon deprived them of the 
security which they enjoyed. Cunegund, who had set her 
heart upon tormenting her husband, left Copenhagen to 
follow his footsteps. Chance brought her to the hospital ; 
she was accompanied by a man whom Candide knew 
to be Baron Thunder-ten- tronckh. One may easily 
imagine what must have been his surprise. The Baron, 
who saw him, addressed him thus : " I did not tug long 
at the oar in the Turkish galleys ; the Jesuits heard of 
my misfortune, and redeemed me for the honour of theii 

C AND IDE. 169 

society. I have made a journey into Germany, where I 
received some favours from my father's heirs. I omitted 
nothing to find my sister ; and having learned at Constan- 
tinople that she had sailed from thence in a vessel which 
was shipwrecked on the coasts of Denmark, I disguised 
myself. I took letters of recommendation to Danish 
merchants, who have correspondence with the society; and 
in fine, I found my sister, who still loves you, base and 
unworthy as you are of her regard ; and since you have had 
the impudence to marry her, I consent to the ratification 
of the marriage, or rather a new celebration of it, with this 
express proviso that my sister shall give you only her left 
hand, which is very reasonable, since she has seventy-one 
quarters, and you have never a one." " Alas ! " says Can- 

dide, " all the quarters of the world without beauty 

Miss Cunegund was very ugly when I had the imprudence 
to marry her." 

" Ungrateful man ! " says Cunegund, with the most fright- 
ful contortions; "be persuaded, and relent in time. Do 
not provoke the Baron, who is a priest, to kill us both, to 
wash out his disgrace with our blood." 

This discourse did not make much impression upon Can- 
dide. He desired a few hours to take his resolution how 
to proceed. The Baron granted him two hours, during 
which time he consulted his friend Cacambo. After having 
weighed the reasons pro and contra, they determined to 
follow the Jesuit and his sister into Germany. They accord- 
ingly left the hospital, and set out together on their travels, 
not on foot, but on good horses hired by the Baron. They 
arrive on the frontiers of the kingdom. A huge man, of a very 
villainous aspect, surveys our hero with close attention. 
" It is the very man," says he, casting his eyes at the same 
time upon a little bit of paper he had in his hand. " Sir, if 
I am not too inquisitive, is not your name Candide?" 
" Yes, sir ; so I have always been called." " Sir, I flatter 
myself you are the very same. You have black eyebrows, 


eyes level with your head, ears not prominent, of a middling 
size, and a round, flesh-coloured visage ; to me you plainly 
appear to be five feet five inches high." " Yes, sir, that is 
my stature. But what have you to do with my ears and 
stature ? " " Sir, we cannot use too much circumspection in 
our office. Permit me further to put one single question more 
to you : Have you not formerly been a servant to Lord 
Wolhall? " " Sir, upon my word," answered Candide, quite 
disconcerted, " I know nothing of what you mean." " May 
be so, sir. But I know for certain that you are the perspn 
whose description has been sent to me. Take the trouble, 
then, to go walk in the guard-house, if you please. Here, 
soldiers, take care of this gentleman. Get the black hole 
ready, and let the armourer be sent for to make him a pretty 
little set of fetters of about thirty or forty pounds weight. 
Mr. Candide, you have a good horse there. I am in want 
of such a one ; and I fancy he will answer my purpose. I 
shall make free with him." 

The Baron was afraid to say the horse was his. They 
carried off poor Candide, and Miss Cunegund wept for a 
whole quarter of an hour. The Jesuit seemed perfectly un- 
concerned at this accident. " I should have been obliged 
to have killed him, or to have made him marry you over 
again," says he to his sister; "and, all things considered, 
what has just happened is much the best for the honour of 
our family." Cunegund departed with her brother, and only 
the faithful Cacambo remained, who would not forsake his 


Consequent of Candidas Misforhme. How he found his Mistress 
again ; and the Fortune that happened to him. 

"O PANGLOSS," said Candide, "what a pity it is you 
perished so miserably ! You have been witness only to a 


part of my misfortunes ; and I hoped to have prevailed on 
you to forsake the ill-founded opinion which you maintained 
to your last breath. No man ever suffered greater calamities 
than I have done ; but there is not a single individual who 
has not cursed his existence, as the daughter of Pope Urban 
warmly expressed herself. What will become of me, my dear 
Cacambo ? " " Faith, I cannot tell," said Cacambo ; " all 
I know is, that I will not forsake you." " But Miss Cune- 
gund has forsaken me," says Candide. " Alas ! a wife 
is of far less value than a menial servant who is a true 

Candide and Cacambo discoursed thus in the black-hole. 
From thence they were taken out to be carried back to 
Copenhagen. It was there that our philosopher was to 
know his doom. He expected it to be dreadful, and our 
readers doubtless expect so to ; but Candide was mistaken, 
as our readers will be likewise. It was at Copenhagen that 
happiness waited to crown all his sufferings. He was hardly 
arrived when he understood that Wolhall was dead. This 
barbarian had no one to regret him, while everybody 
interested themselves for Candide. His irons were knocked 
off; and his enlargement gave him so much the more joy as 
it was immediately followed by the sight of his dear Zenoida. 
He flew to her with the utmost transport ; they were a long 
time without speaking a word; but their silence was in- 
finitely more expressive than words. They wept ; they 
embraced each other ; they attempted to speak, but tears 
stopped their utterance. Cacambo was a pleased spectator 
of this scene, so truly interesting to a sensible being ; he 
shared in the happiness of his friend, and was almost as 
much affected as himself. " Dear Cacambo ! adorable 
Zenoida ! " cried Candide ; " you efface from my heart the 
deep traces of my misfortunes. Love and friendship pre- 
pare for me future days of serenity and uninterrupted delight. 
Through what a number of trials have I passed to arrive at 


this unexpected happiness ! But they are all forgot. Dear 
Zenoida, I behold you once more; you love me ; everything 
is for the best in regard to me ; all is good in nature." 

By WolhalPs death, Zenoida was left at her own disposal. 
The Court had given her a pension out of her father's fortune, 
which had been confiscated ; she shared it with Candide and 
Cacambo ; she appointed them apartments in her own house, 
and gave out that she had received several considerable services 
from these two strangers, which obliged her to procure them 
all the comforts and pleasures of life, and to repair the injustice 
which fortune had done them. There were some who saw 
through the motive of her beneficence ; which was no very 
hard matter to do, considering the great talk her connection 
with Candide had formerly occasioned. The greater part 
blamed her, and her conduct was only approved of by some 
few who knew how to reflect. Zenoida, who set a proper 
value on the good opinion even of fools, was nevertheless 
too happy to repent the loss of it. The news of the death 
of Miss Cunegund, which was brought by the correspon- 
dents of the Jesuit merchants in Copenhagen, procured 
Zenoida the means of conciliating the minds of people ; she 
ordered a genealogy to be drawn up for Candide. The 
author, who was a man of abilities in his way, derived his 
pedigree from one of the most ancient families in Europe ; 
he even pretended his true name was Canute, which was 
that of one of the former kings of Denmark ; which appeared 
very probable, as dide into ^tte is not such a great metamor- 
phosis : and Candide by means of this little change, became 
a very great lord. He married Zenoida in public ; they lived 
with as much tranquillity as it is possible to do. Cacambo 
was their common friend ; and Candide said often, " All is 
not so well as in El Dorado ; but all does not go so badly. " 


RAS s E L A s. 


Description of a Palace in a Valley. 

YE who listen with credulity to the whispers of fancy, and 
pursue with eagerness the phantoms of hope ; who expect 
that age will perform the promises of youth, and that 
the deficiencies of the present day will be supplied by 
the morrow, attend to the history of Rasselas, Prince of 

Rasselas was the fourth son of the mighty Emperor in 
whose dominions the father of waters begins his course 
whose bounty pours down the streams of plenty, and scatters 
over the world the harvests of Egypt. 

According to the custom which has descended from age 
to age among the mouarchs of the torrid zone, Rasselas was 
confined in a private palace, with the other sons and daugh- 
ters of Abyssinian royalty, till the order of succession should 
call him to the throne. 

The place which the wisdom or policy of antiquity had 
destined for the residence of the Abyssinian princes was a 
spacious valley in the kingdom of Amhara, surrounded on 
every side by mountains, of which the summits overhang 
the middle part. The only passage by which it could be 
entered was a cavern that passed under a reck, of which it 
had long been disputed whether it was the work of nature 


or of human industry. The outlet .of the cavern was con- 
cealed by a thick wood, and the mouth which opened into 
the valley was closed with gates of iron, forged by the arti- 
ficers of ancient days, so massive that no man, without the 
help of engines, could open or shut them. 

From the mountains on every side rivulets descended 
that filled all the valley with verdure and fertility, and 
formed a lake in the middle, inhabited by fish of every 
species, and frequented by every fowl whom nature has 
taught to dip the wing in water This lake discharged its 
superfluities by a stream, which entered a dark cleft of the 
mountain on the northern side, and fell with dreadful noise 
from precipice to precipice till it was heard no more. 

The sides of the mountains were covered with trees, the 
banks of the brooks were diversified with flowers : every 
blast shook spices from the rocks, and every month dropped 
fruits upon the ground. All animals that bite the grass or 
browse the shrubs, whether wild or tame, wandered in this 
extensive circuit, secured from beasts of prey by the moun- 
tains which confined them. On one part were flocks and 
herds feeding in the pastures, on another all the beasts of 
chase frisking in the lawns, the sprightly kid was bounding 
on the rocks, the subtle monkey frolicking in the trees, and 
the solemn elephant reposing in the shade. All the diver- 
sities of the world were brought together, the blessings of 
nature were collected, and its evils extracted and excluded. 
The valley, wide and fruitful, supplied its inhabitants with 
all the necessaries of life, and all delights and superfluities 
were added at the annual visit which the Emperor paid his 
children, when the iron gate was opened to the sound of 
music, and during eight days every one that resided in the 
valley was required to propose whatever might contribute to 
make seclusion pleasant, to fill up the vacancies of attention, 
and lessen the tediousness of time. Every desire was imme- 
diately granted. All the artificers of pleasure were called to 
gladden the festivity ; the musicians exerted the power of 


harmony, and the dancers showed their activity before the 
princes, in hopes that they should pass their lives in blissful 
captivity, to which those only were admitted whose perform- 
ance was thought able to add novelty to luxury. Such was 
the appearance of security and delight which this retirement 
afforded, that they to whom it was new always desired that 
it might be perpetual ; and as those on whom the iron gate 
had once closed were never suffered to return, the effect of 
longer experience could not be known. Thus every year 
produced new scenes of delight, and new competitors for 

The palace stood on an eminence, raised about thirty 
paces above the surface of the lake. It was divided into 
many squares or courts, built with greater or less mag- 
nificence according to the rank of those for whom they were 
designed. The roofs were turned into arches of massive stone, 
joined by a cement that grew harder by time, and the 
building stood from century to century, deriding the solstitial 
rains and equinoctial hurricanes, without need of reparation. 

This house, which was so large as to be fully known to 
none but some ancient officers, who successively inherited 
the secrets of the place, was built as if Suspicion herself had 
dictated the plan. To every room there was an open and 
secret passage ; every square had a communication with the 
rest, either from the upper stories by private galleries, or by 
subterraneous passages from the lower apartments. Many 
of the columns had unsuspected cavities, in which a long 
race of monarchs had reposited their treasures. They then 
closed up the opening with marble, which was never to be 
removed but in the utmost exigences of the kingdom, and 
recorded their accumulations in a book, which was itself 
concealed in a tower, not entered but by the emperor, 
attended by the prince who stood next in succession. 



The Discontent of Rasselas in the Happy Valley. 

HERE the sons and daughters of Abyssinia lived only to 
know the soft vicissitudes of pleasure and repose, attended 
by all that were skilful to delight, and gratified with whatever 
the senses can enjoy. They wandered in gardens of fragrance, 
and slept in the fortresses of security. Every art was prac- 
tised to make them pleased with their own condition. The 
sages who instructed them told them of nothing but the 
miseries of public life, and described all beyond the moun- 
tains as regions of calamity, where discord was always 
raging, and where man preyed upon man. To heighten 
their opinion of their own felicity, they were daily enter- 
tained with songs, the subject of which was the Happy 
Valley. Their appetites were excited by frequent enume- 
rations of different enjoyments, and revelry and merriment 
were the business of every hour, from the dawn of morning 
to the close of the evening. 

These methods were generally successful ; few of the 
princes had ever wished to enlarge their bounds, but passed 
their lives in full conviction that they had all within their 
reach that art or nature could bestow, and pitied those 
whom nature had excluded from this seat of tranquillity as 
the sport of chance and the slaves of misery. 

Thus they rose in the morning and lay down at night, 
pleased with each other and with themselves, all but 
Rasselas, who, in the twenty-sixth year of his age, began to 
withdraw himself from the pastimes and assemblies, and to 
delight in solitary walks and silent meditation. He often 
sat before tables covered with luxury, and forgot to taste the 
dainties that were placed before him ; he rose abruptly in 
the midst of the song, and hastily retired beyond the sound 
of music. His attendants observed the change,, and endea- 

R ASS 'E LAS. 179 

voured to renew his love of pleasure. He neglected their 
officiousness, repulsed their invitations, and spent day after 
day on the banks of rivulets sheltered with trees, where he 
sometimes listened to the birds in the branches, sometimes 
observed the fish playing in the streams, and anon cast his 
eyes upon the pastures and mountains filled with animals, 
of which some were biting the herbage, and some sleeping 
among the bushes. The singularity of his humour made 
him much observed. One of the sages, in whose conversa- 
tion he had formerly delighted, followed him secretly, in 
hope of discovering the cause of his disquiet. Rasselas, 
who knew not that any one was near him, having for some 
time fixed his eyes upon the goats that were browsing 
among the rocks, began to compare their condition with his 

"What," said he, "makes the difference between man 
and all the rest of the animal creation ? Every beast that 
strays beside me has the same corporal necessities with 
myself: he is hungry, and crops the grass ; he is thirsty, and 
drinks the stream ; his thirst and hunger are appeased ; he 
is satisfied, and sleeps; he rises again, and is hungry; he is 
again fed, and is at rest. I am hungry and thirsty, like him, 
but when thirst and hunger cease, I am not at rest I am, 
like him, pained with want, but am not, like him, satisfied 
with fulness. The intermediate hours are tedious and 
gloomy; I long again to be hungry, that I may again 
quicken the attention. The birds peck the berries or the 
corn, and fly away to the groves, where they sit in seeming 
happiness on the branches, and waste their lives in tuning 
one unvaried series of sounds. I likewise can call the 
lutist and the singer; but the sounds that pleased me 
yesterday weary me to-day, and will grow yet more weari- 
some to-morrow. I can discover in me no power of per- 
ception which is not glutted with its proper pleasure, yet I 
do not feel myself delighted. Man surely has some latent 
sense for which this place affords no gratification ; or he 


ha-s some desire distinct from sense, which must be satisfied 
before he can be happy." 

After this he lifted up his head, and seeing the moon 
rising, walked towards the palace. As he passed through 
the fields, and saw the animals around him, " Ye," said he, 
"are happy, and need not envy me that walk thus among 
you, burdened with myself; nor do I, ye gentle beings, envy 
your felicity ; for it is not the felicity of man. I have many 
distresses from which you are free ; I fear pain when I do 
not feel it; I sometimes shrink at evils recollected, and 
sometimes start at evils anticipated : surely the equity of 
Providence has balanced peculiar sufferings with peculiar 

With observations like these the Prince amused himself 
as he returned, uttering them with a plaintive voice, yet with 
a look that discovered him to feel some complacence in his 
own perspicacity, and to receive some solace of the miseries 
of life from consciousness of the delicacy with which he felt 
and the eloquence with which he bewailed them. He 
mingled cheerfully in the diversions of the evening, and all 
rejoiced to find that his heart was lightened. 

7%i? IVants of him that Wants Nothing. 

ON the next day, his old instructor^ imagining that he had 
now made himself acquainted with his disease of mind, was 
in hope of curing it by counsel, and officiously sought an 
opportunity of conference, which the Prince, having long 
considered him as one whose intellects were exhausted, 
was not very willing to afford. " Why," said he, " does this 
man thus intrude upon me ? Shall I never be suffered to 
forget these lectures, which pleased only while they were 
new, and to become new again, must be forgotten?" He 
then walked into the wood, and composed himself to his 


usual meditations ; when, before his thoughts had taken 
any settled form, he perceived his pursuer at his side, and 
was at first prompted by his impatience to go hastily away 
but being unwilling to offend a man whom he had once 
reverenced and still loved, he invited him to sit down with 
him on the bank. 

The old man, thus encouraged, began to lament the 
change which had been lately observed in the Prince, and 
to inquire why he so often retired from the pleasures of the 
palace to loneliness and silence. " I fly from pleasure," said 
the Prince, " because pleasure has ceased to please : I am 
lonely because I am miserable, and am unwilling to cloud 
with my presence the happiness of others." " You, sir," 
said the sage, " are the first who has complained of 
misery in the Happy Valley. I hope to convince you that 
your complaints have no real cause. You are here in 
full possession of all the Emperor of Abyssinia can bestow ; 
here is neither labour to be endured nor danger to be 
dreaded, yet here is all that labour or danger can procure 
or purchase. Look round and tell me which of your wants 
is without supply : if you want nothing, how are you 
unhappy ? " 

" That I want nothing," said the Prince, " or that 1 know 
not what I want, is the cause of my complaint : if I had any 
known want, I should have a certain wish ; that wish would 
excite endeavour, and I should not then repine to see the 
sun move so slowly towards the western mountains, or to 
lament when the day breaks, and sleep will no longer hide 
me from myself. When I see the kids and the lambs 
chasing one another, I fancy that I should be happy if I 
had something to pursue. But, possessing all that I can 
want, I find one day and one hour exactly like another, 
except that the latter is still more tedious than the former. 
Let your experience inform me how the day may now seem 
as short as in my childhood, while nature was yet fresh, and 
every moment showed me what I never had observed before. 


I have already enjoyed too much : give me something to 
desire." The old man was surprised at this new species of 
affliction, and knew not what to reply, yet was unwilling to 
be silent. " Sir," said he, " if you had seen the miseries of 
the world, you would know how to value your present state." 
" Now," said the Prince, " you have given me something to 
desire. I shall long to see the miseries of the world, since 
the sight of them is necessary to happiness." 


The Prince continues to Grieve and Muse. 

AT this time the sound of music proclaimed the hour of 
repast, and the conversation was concluded. The old man 
went away sufficiently discontented to find that his reason- 
ings had produced the only conclusion which they were 
intended to prevent. But in the decline of life, shame and 
grief are of short duration : whether it be that we bear easily 
what we have borne long ; or that, finding ourselves in age 
less regarded, we less regard others ; or, that we look with 
slight regard upon afflictions to which we know that the 
hand of death is about to put an end. 

The Prince, whose views were extended to a wider space, 
could not speedily quiet his emotions. He had been before ter- 
rified at the length of life which nature promised him, because 
he considered that in a long time much must be endured : 
he now rejoiced in his youth, because in many years much 
might be done. The first beam of hope that had been 
ever darted into his mind rekindled youth in his cheeks, 
and doubled the lustre of his eyes. He was fired with the 
desire of doing something, though he knew not yet, with 
distinctness, either end or means. He was now no longer 
gloomy and unsocial ; but considering himself as master of 
a secret stock of happiness, which he could only enjoy by 
concealing it, he affected to be busy in all the schemes of 


diversion, and endeavoured to make others pleased with the 
state of which he himself was weary. But pleasures can 
never be so multiplied or continued as not to leave much of 
life unemployed ; there were many hours, both of the night 
and day, which he could spend without suspicion in solitary 
thought. The load of life was much lightened ; he went 
eagerly into the assemblies, because he supposed the fre- 
quency of his presence necessary to the success of his 
purposes ; he retired gladly to privacy, because he had now 
a subject of thought. His chief amusement was to picture 
to himself that world which he had never seen, to place 
himself in various conditions, to be entangled in imaginary 
difficulties, and to be engaged in wild adventures ; but his 
benevolence always terminated his projects in the relief of 
distress, the detection of fraud, the defeat of oppression, and 
the diffusion of happiness. 

Thus passed twenty months of the life of Rasselas. He 
busied himself so intensely in visionary bustle that he forgot 
his real solitude ; and amidst hourly preparations for the 
various incidents of human affairs, neglected to consider by 
what means he should mingle with mankind. 

One day, as he was sitting on a bank, he feigned to him- 
self an orphan virgin robbed of her little portion by a 
treacherous lover, and crying after him for restitution. So 
strongly was the image impressed upon his mind, that he 
started up in the maid's defence, and ran forward to seize 
the plunderer with all the eagerness of real pursuit. Fear 
naturally quickens the flight of guilt. Rasselas could not 
catch the fugitive with his utmost efforts ; but, resolving to 
weary by perseverance him whom he could not surpass in 
speed, he pressed on till the foot of the mountain stopped 
his course. 

Here he recollected himself, and smiled at his own use- 
less impetuosity. Then raising his eyes to the mountain, 
"This," said he, " is the fatal obstacle that hinders at once 
the enjoyment of pleasure and the exercise of virtue. How 


long is it that my hopes and wishes have flown beyond this 
boundary of my life, which yet I never have attempted to 
surmount?" Struck with this reflection, he sat down to 
muse, and remembered that since he first resolved to escape 
from his confinement, the sun had passed twice over him 
in his annual course. He now felt a degree of regret with 
which he had never been before acquainted. He considered 
how much might have been done in the time which had 
passed, and left nothing real behind it. He compared 
twenty months with the life of man. " In life," said he, " is 
not to be counted the ignorance of infancy or imbecility of 
age. We are long before we are able to think, and we soon 
cease from the power of acting. The true period of human 
existence may be reasonably estimated at forty years, of 
which I have mused away the four-and-twentieth part. 
What I have lost was certain, for I have certainly possessed 
it ; but of twenty months to come, who can assure me ? " 

The consciousness of his own folly pierced him deeply, 
and he was long before he could be reconciled to himself. 
" The rest of my time," said he, " has been lost by the crime 
or folly of my ancestors, and the absurd institutions of my 
country ; I remember it with disgust, yet without remorse: but 
the months that have passed since new light darted into my 
soul, since I formed a scheme of reasonable felicity, have 
been squandered by my own fault. I have lost that which 
can never be restored ; I have seen the sun rise and set for 
twenty months, an idle gazer on the light of heaven ; in this 
time the birds have left the nest of their mother, and com- 
mitted themselves to the woods and to the skies; the kid 
has forsaken the teat, and learned by degrees to climb the 
rocks in quest of independent sustenance. I only have 
made no advances, but am still helpless and ignorant. The 
moon, by more than twenty changes, admonished me of the 
flux of life ; the stream that rolled before my feet upbraided 
my inactivity. I sat feasting on intellectual luxury, regard- 
less alike of the examples of the earth and the instructions 


of the planets. Twenty months are passed : who shall 
restore them ? " 

These sorrowful meditations fastened upon his mind ; he 
passed four months in resolving to lose no more time in 
idle resolves, and was awakened to more vigorous exertion 
by hearing a maid, who had broken a porcelain cup, remark 
that what cannot be repaired is not to be regretted. 

This was obvious ; and Rasselas reproached himself that 
he had not discovered it ; having not known, or not con- 
sidered, how many useful hints are obtained by chance, and 
how often the mind, hurried by her own ardour to distant 
views, neglects the truths that lie open before her. He for 
a few hours regretted his regret, and from that time bent his 
whole mind upon the means of escaping from the Valley of 


Tht Prince meditates his Escape. 

HE now found that it would be very difficult to effect that 
which it was very easy to suppose effected. When he 
looked round about him, he saw himself confined by the 
bars of nature, which had never yet been broken, and by 
the gate through which none that once had passed it were 
ever able to return. He was now impatient as an eagle in 
a grate. He passed week after week in clambering the 
mountains, to see if there was any aperture which the 
bushes might conceal, but found all the summits inaccessible 
by their prominence. The iron gate he despaired to open, 
for it was not only secured with all the power of art, but 
was always watched by successive sentinels, and was, by 
its position, exposed to the perpetual observation of all the 

He then examined the cavern through which the waters 
of the lake were discharged ; and, looking down at a. time 


when the sun shone strongly upon its mouth, he discovered 
it to be full of broken rocks, which, though they permitted 
the stream to flow through many narrow passages, would 
stop any body of solid bulk. He returned, discouraged and 
dejected : but having now known the blessing of hope, 
resolved never to despair. 

Jn these fruitless researches he spent ten months. The 
time, however, passed cheerfully away : in the morning he 
rose with new hope, in the evening applauded his own 
diligence, and in the night slept soundly after his fatigue. 
He met a thousand amusements, which beguiled his labour 
and diversified his thoughts. He discerned the various 
instincts of animals and properties of plants, and found the 
place replete with wonders, of which he proposed to solace 
himself with the contemplation, if he should never be able 
to accomplish his flight ; rejoicing that his endeavours, 
though yet unsuccessful, had supplied him with a source of 
inexhaustible inquiry. 

But his original curiosity was not yet abated : he resolved 
to obtain some knowledge of the ways of men. His wish 
still continued, but his hope grew less. He ceased to 
survey any longer the walls of his prison, and spared to 
search by new toils for interstices which he knew could not 
be found, yet determined to keep his design always in 
vie\v, and lay hold on any expedient that time should offer. 


A Dissertation on the Art of Flying. 

AMONG the artists that had been allured into the Happy 
Valley, to labour for the accommodation and pleasure of its 
inhabitants, was a man eminent for his knowledge of the 
mechanic powers, who had contrived many engines both of 
use and recreation. By a wheel which the stream turned, he 
forced the water into a tower, whence it was distributed to all 


the apartments of the palace. He erected a pavilion in the 
garden, around which he kept the air always cool by artificial 
showers. One of the groves, appropriated to the ladies, 
was ventilated by fans, to which the rivulets that ran through 
it gave a constant motion ; and instruments of soft music 
were played at proper distances, of which some played by 
the impulse of the wind, and some by the power of the 

This artist was sometimes visited by Rasselas, who was 
pleased with every kind of knowledge, imagining that the 
time would come when all his acquisitions should be of use 
to him in the open world. He came one day to amuse 
himself in his usual manner, and found the master busy in 
building a sailing chariot. He saw that the design was 
practicable upon a level surface, and with expressions of 
great esteem solicited its completion. The workman was 
pleased to find himself so much regarded by the Prince, and 
resolved to gain yet higher honours. " Sir," said he, " you 
have seen but a small part of what the mechanic sciences 
can perform. I have been long of opinion that, instead of 
the tardy conveyance of ships and chariots, man might use 
the swifter migration of wings ; that the fields of air are 
open to knowledge, and that only ignorance and idleness 
need crawl upon the ground." 

This hint rekindled the Prince's desire of passing the 
mountains. Having seen what the mechanist had already 
performed, he was willing to fancy that he could do more ; 
yet resolved to inquire further before he suffered hope to 
afflict him by disappointment. " I am afraid," said he to 
the artist, "that your imagination prevails over your skill, 
and that you now tell me rather what you wish than what 
you know. Every animal has his element assigned him ; 
the birds have the air, and man and beasts the earth." 
" So," replied the mechanist, " fishes have the water, in 
which yet beasts can swim by nature and man by art. He 
that can swim needs not despair to fly ; to swim is to fly in 


a grosser fluid, and to fly is to swim in a subtler. We are" 
only to proportion our power of resistance to the different 
density of matter through which we are to pass. You will 
be necessarily upborne by the air if you can renew any 
impulse upon it faster than the air can recede from the 

" But the exercise of swimming," said the Prince, " is very 
laborious; the strongest limbs are soon weaned. I am 
afraid the act of flying will be yet more violent ; and wings 
will be of no great use unless we can fly further than we can 

" The labour of rising from the ground," said the artist, 
" will be great, as we see it in the heavier domestic fowls ; 
but as we mount higher the earth's attraction and the body's 
gravity will be gradually diminished, till we shall arrive at a 
region where the man shall float in the air without any 
tendency to fall ; no care will then be necessary but to move 
forward, which the gentlest impulse will effect. You, sir, 
whose curiosity is so extensive, will easily conceive with 
what pleasure a philosopher, furnished with wings and 
hovering in the sky, would see the earth and all its inhabi- 
tants rolling beneath him, and presenting to him successively, 
by its diurnal motion, all the countries within the same 
parallel. How must it amuse the pendent spectator to see 
the moving scene of land and ocean, cities and deserts ; to 
survey with equal security the marts of trade and the fields 
of battle ; mountains infested by barbarians, and fruitful 
regions gladdened by plenty and lulled by peace. How 
easily shall we then trace the Nile through all his passages, 
pass over to distant regions, and examine the face of nature 
from one extremity of the earth to the other." 

" All this," said the Prince, " is much to be desired, but 
I am afraid that no man will be able to breathe in these 
regions of speculation and tranquillity. I have been told 
that respiration is difficult upon lofty mountains ; yet from 
these precipices, though so high as to produce great tenuity 


of air, it is very easy to fall ; therefore I suspect that from 
any height where life can be supported, there may be danger 
of too quick descent." 

" Nothing," replied the artist, " will ever be attempted if 
all possible objections must be first overcome. If you will 
favour my project, I will try the first flight at my own hazard. 
I have considered the structure of all volant animals, and 
find the folding continuity of the bat's wings most easily 
accommodated to the human form. Upon this model I 
shall begin my task to-morrow ; and in a year expect to 
tower into the air beyond the malice and pursuit of man. 
But I will work only on this condition : that the art shall 
not be divulged, and that you shall not require me to make 
wings for any but ourselves." 

" Why," said Rasselas, " should you envy others so great 
an advantage ? All skill ought to be exerted for universal 
good ; every man has owed much to others, and ought to 
repay the kindness that he has received." 

" If men were all virtuous," returned the artist, " I should 
with great alacrity teach them to fly. But what would be 
the security of the good if the bad could at pleasure invade 
them from the sky ? Against an army sailing through the 
clouds, neither walls, mountains, nor seas, could afford 
security. A flight of northern savages might hover in the 
wind, and light with irresistible violence upon the capital of 
a fruitful region. Even this valley, the retreat of princes, 
the abode of happiness, might be violated by the sudden 
descent of some of the naked nations that swarm on the 
coast of the southern sea ! " 

The Prince promised secrecy, and waited for the per- 
formance, not wholly hopeless of success. He visited the 
work from time to time, observed its progress, and remarked 
many ingenious contrivances to facilitate motion, and unite 
levity with strength. The artist was every day more certain 
that he should leave vultures and eagles behind him, and 
the contagion of his confidence seized upon the Prince. In 


a year the wings were finished; and on a morning appointed 
the maker appeared, furnished for flight, on a little promon- 
tory : he waved his pinions a while to gather air, then 
leaped from his stand, and in an instant dropped into the 
lake. His wings, which were of no use in the air, sustained 
him in the water ; and the Prince drew him to land half 
dead with terror and vexation. 


The Prince finds a Man of Learning. 

THE Prince was not much afflicted by this disaster, having 
suffered himself to hope for a happier event only because 
he had no other means of escape in view. He still per- 
sisted in his design to leave the Happy Valley by the first 

His imagination was now at a stand ; he had no prospect 
of entering into the world ; and notwithstanding all his 
endeavours to support himself, discontent by degrees preyed 
upon him ; and he began again to lose his thoughts in 
sadness when the rainy season, which in these countries is 
periodical, made it inconvenient to wander in the woods. 

The rain continued longer and with more violence than 
had ever been known : the clouds broke on the surrounding 
mountains, and the torrents streamed into the plain on 
every side, till the cavern was too narrow to discharge the 
water. The lake overflowed its banks, and all the level of 
the valley was covered with the inundation. The eminence 
on which the palace was built, and some other spots of 
rising ground, were all that the eye could now discover. 
The herds and flocks left the pasture, and both the wild 
beasts and the tame retreated to the mountains. 

This inundation confined all the princes to domestic 
amusements ; and the attention of Rasselas was particularly 
seized by a poem, which Imlac rehearsed, upon the various 



conditions of humanity. He commanded the poet to attend 
him in his apartment, and recite his verses a second time ; 
then entering into familiar talk, he thought himself happy 
in having found a man who knew the world so well, and 
could so skilfully paint the scenes of life. He asked a 
thousand questions about things, to which, though common 
to all other mortals, his confinement from childhood had 
kept him a stranger. The poet pitied his ignorance, and 
loved his curiosity, and entertained him from day to day 
with novelty and instruction, so that the Prince regretted the 
necessity of sleep, and longed till the morning should renew 
his pleasure. 

As they were sitting together, the Prince commanded 
Imlac to relate his history, and to tell by what accident he 
was forced, or by what motive induced, to close his life in 
the Happy Valley. As he was going to begin his narrative, 
Rasselas was called to a concert, and obliged to restrain 
his curiosity till the evening. 


The History of Imlac. 

THE close of the day is, in the regions of the torrid zone, > 
the only season of diversion and entertainment, and it was 
therefore midnight before the music ceased and the 
princesses retired. Rasselas then called for his companion, 
and required him to begin the story of his life. 

" Sir," said Imlac, " my history will not be long : the life 
that is devoted to knowledge passes silently away, and is 
very little diversified by events. To talk in public, to think 
in solitude, to read and to hear, to inquire and answer in- 
quiries, is the business of a scholar. He wanders about the 
world without pomp or terror, and is neither known nor 
valued but by men like himself. 

" I was born in the kingdom of Goiama, at no great dis- 


tance from the fountain of the Nile. My father was a 
wealthy merchant, who traded between the inland countries 
of Africa and the ports of the Red Sea. He was honest, 
frugal, and diligent, but of mean sentiments and narrow 
comprehension ; he desired only to be rich, and to conceal 
his riches, lest he should be spoiled by the governors of the 

" Surely," said the Prince, " my father must be negligent 
of his charge if any man in his dominions dares take that 
which belongs to another. Does he not know that kings 
are accountable for injustice permitted as well as done ? If 
I were emperor, not the meanest of my subjects should be 
oppressed with impunity. My blood boils when I am told 
that a merchant durst not enjoy his honest gains for fear of 
losing them by the rapacity of power. Name the governor 
who robbed the people, that I may declare his crimes to the 
Emperor ! " 

" Sir," said Imlac, " your ardour is the natural effect of 
virtue animated by youth. The time will come when you 
will acquit your father, and perhaps hear with less impatience 
of the governor. Oppression is, in the Abyssinian dominions, 
neither frequent nor tolerated ; but no form of government 
has been yet discovered by which cruelty can be wholly 
prevented. Subordination supposes power on one part and 
subjection on the other ; and if power be in the hands of 
men it will sometimes be abused. The vigilance of the 
supreme magistrate may do much, but much will still remain 
undone. He can never know all the crimes that are com- 
mitted, and can seldom punish all that he knows." 

" This," said the Prince, " I do not understand ; but I 
had rather hear thee than dispute. Continue thy narra- 

" My father," proceeded Imlac, " originally intended that 
I should have no other education than such as might qualify 
me for commerce ; and discovering in me great strength 
of memory and quickness of apprehension, often declared 


his hope that I should be some time the richest man in 

"Why," said the Prince, "did thy father desire the in- 
crease of his wealth when it was already greater than he 
durst discover or enjoy ? I am unwilling to doubt thy veracity, 
yet inconsistencies cannot both be true." 

" Inconsistencies," answered Imlac, " cannot both be 
right ; but, imputed to man, they may both be true. Yet 
diversity is not inconsistency. My father might expect a 
time of greater security. However, some desire is necessary 
to keep life in motion ; and he whose real wants are supplied 
must admit those of fancy." 

" This," ssid the Prince, " I can in some measure conceive. 
I repent that I interrupted thee." 

" With this hope," proceeded Imlac, " he sent me to 
school. But when I had once found the delight of know- 
ledge, and felt the pleasure of intelligence and the pride of 
invention, I began silently to despise riches, and determined 
to disappoint the purposes of my father, whose grossness of 
conception raised my pity. I was twenty years old before 
his tenderness would expose me to the fatigue of travel ; in 
which time I had been instructed, by successive masters, in 
all the literature of my native country. As every hour taught 
me something new, I lived in a continual course of gratifi- 
cation ; but as I advanced towards manhood, I lost much 
of the reverence with which I had been used to look on my 
instructors ; because when the lessons were ended I did not 
find them wiser or better than common men. 

" At length my father resolved to initiate me in commerce ; 
and, opening one of his subterranean treasuries, counted out 
ten thousand pieces of gold. ' This, young man,' said he, 
' is the stock with which you must negotiate. I began with 
less than a fifth part, and you see how diligence and parsi- 
mony have increased it. This is your own, to waste or to 
improve. If you squander it by negligence or caprice, you 
must wait for my death before you will be rich ; if in four 



years you double your stock, we will thenceforward let sub- 
ordination cease, and live together as friends and partners, 
for he shall be always equal with me who is equally skilled 
in the art of growing rich.' 

" We laid out our money upon camels, concealed in bales 
of cheap goods, and travelled to the shore of the Red Sea. 
When I cast my eye on the expanse of waters, my heart 
bounded like that of a prisoner escaped. I felt an inex- 
tinguishable curiosity kindle in my mind, and resolved to 
snatch this opportunity of seeing the manners of other 
nations, and of learning sciences unknown in Abyssinia. 

" I remembered that my father had obliged me to the 
improvement of my stock, not by a promise, which I ought 
not to violate, but by a penalty, which I was at liberty to 
incur ; and therefore determined to gratify my predominant 
desire, and, by drinking at the fountain of knowledge, to 
quench the thirst of curiosity. 

" As I was supposed to trade without connection with my 
father, it was easy for me to become acquainted with the 
master of a ship, and procure a passage to some other 
country. I had no motives of choice to regulate my voyage. 
It was sufficient for me that, wherever I wandered, I should 
see a country which I had not seen before. I therefore 
entered a ship bound for Surat, having left a letter for my 
father declaring my intention." 


The History of Inilac (continued}. 

" WHEN I first entered upon the world of waters, and lost 
sight of land, I looked round about me in pleasing terror, and 
thinking my soul enlarged by the boundless prospect, imagined 
that I could gaze around me for ever without satiety ; but 
in a short time I grew weary of looking on barren uniformity, 
where I could only see again what I had already seen. I 


then descended into the ship, and doubted for a while 
whether all my future pleasures would not end, like this, in 
disgust and disappointment. ' Yet surely/ said I, l the 
ocean and the land are very different. The only variety of 
water is rest and motion. But the earth has mountains and 
valleys, deserts and cities ; it is inhabited by men of different 
customs and contrary opinions ; and I may hope to find 
variety in life, though I should miss it in nature.' 
. " With this thought I quieted my mind : and amused my- 
self during the voyage, sometimes by learning from the 
sailors the art of navigation, which I have never practised, 
and sometimes by forming schemes for my conduct in dif- 
ferent situations, in not one of which I have been ever 

" I was almost weary of my naval amusements when we 
safely landed at Surat. I secured my money, and pur- 
chasing some commodities for show, joined myself to a 
caravan that was passing into the inland country. My 
companions, for some reason or other, conjecturing that I 
was rich, and, by my inquiries and admiration, finding that 
I was ignorant, considered me as a novice whom they had a 
right to cheat, and who was to learn, at the usual expense, 
the art of fraud. They exposed me to the theft of ser- 
vants and the exaction of officers, and saw me plundered 
upon false pretences, without any advantage to themselves 
but that of rejoicing in the superiority of their own 

" Stop a moment," said the Prince ; " is there such de- 
pravity in man as that he should injure another without 
benefit to himself? I can easily conceive that all are 
pleased with superiority; but your ignorance was merely 
accidental, which, being neither your crime nor your folly, 
could afford them no reason to applaud themselves ; and 
the knowledge which they had, anfl which you wanted, they 
might as effectually have shown by warning as betraying you." 

" Pride," said Imlac, " is seldom delicate ; it will please 


itself with very mean advantages ; and envy feels not its 
own happiness but when it may be compared with the 
misery of others. They were my enemies because they 
grieved to think me rich, and my oppressors because they 
delighted to find me weak." 

"Proceed," said the Prince: "I doubt not of the facts 
which you relate, but imagine that you impute them to mis- 
taken motives." 

" In this company," said Imlac, " I arrived at Agra, the 
capital of Hindostan, the city in which the Great Mogul com- 
monly resides. I applied myself to the language of the 
country, and in a few months was able to converse with the 
learned men ; some of whom I found morose and reserved, 
and others easy and communicative : some were unwilling 
to teach another what they had with difficulty learned them- 
selves ; and some showed that the end of their studies was 
to gain the dignity of instructing. 

' To the tutor of the young princes I recommended my- 
self so much that I was presented to the Emperor as a man 
of uncommon knowledge. The Emperor asked me many 
questions concerning my country and my travels; and 
though I cannot now recollect anything that he uttered above 
the power of a common man, he dismissed me, astonished at 
his wisdom and enamoured of his goodness. 

" My credit was now so high that the merchants with whom 
I had travelled applied to me for recommendations to the 
ladies of the Court. I was surprised at their confidence of 
solicitation, and greatly reproached them with their practices 
on the road. They heard me with cold indifference, and 
showed no tokens of shame or sorrow. 

" They then urged their request with the offer of a bribe ; 
but what I would not do for kindness, I would not do for 
money, and refused them ; not because they had injured me, 
but because I would not enable them to injure others ; for 
I knew they would have made use of my credit to cheat 
those who should buy their wares; 

RASSELAS. ! 9 y 

" Having resided at Agra till there was no more to be 
learned, I travelled into Persia, where I saw many remains 
of ancient magnificence, and observed many new accommo- 
dations of life. The Persians are a nation eminently social, 
and their assemblies afforded me daily opportunities of 
remarking characters and manners, and of tracing human 
nature through all its variations. 

' From Persia I passed into Arabia, where I saw a nation 
pastoral and warlike, who lived without any settled habita- 
tion, whose wealth is their flocks and herds, and who have 
carried on through ages an hereditary war with mankind* 
though they neither covet nor envy their possessions. " 


Iftilac's History {continued). A Dissertation upon Poetry, 

" WHEREVER I went I found that poetry was considered as 
the highest learning, and regarded with a veneration some- 
what approaching to that which man would pay to angelic 
nature. And yet it fills me with wonder, that in almost all 
countries the most ancient poets are considered as the best ; 
whether it be that every other kind of knowledge is an 
acquisition gradually attained, and poetry is a gift conferred 
at once ; or that the first poetry of every nation surprised 
them as a novelty, and retained the credit by consent which 
it received by accident at first ; or whether, as the province of 
poetry is to describe nature and passion, which are always 
the same, the first writers took possession of the most 
striking objects for description and the most probable occur- 
rences for fiction, and left nothing to those that followed 
them but transcription of the same events and new combi- 
nations of the same images. Whatever be the reason, it is 
commonly observed that the early writers are in possession 
of nature, and their followers of art ; that the first excel in 
strength and invention, and the latter in elegance and 


" I was desirous to add my name to this illustrious frater- 
nity. I read all the poets of Persia and Arabia, and was able 
to repeat by memory the volumes that are suspended in the 
mosque of Mecca. But I soon found that no man was ever 
great by imitation. My desire of excellence impelled me to 
transfer my attention to nature and to life. Nature was to 
be my subject, and men to be my auditors. I could never 
describe what I had not seen. I could not hope to move 
those with delight or terror whose interests and opinions I 
did not understand. 

" Being now resolved to be a poet, I saw everything with 
a new purpose ; my sphere of attention was suddenly mag- 
nified ; no kind of knowledge was to be overlooked. I 
ranged mountains and deserts for images and resemblances, 
and pictured upon my mind every tree of the forest and 
flower of the valley. I observed with equal care the 
crags of the rock and the pinnacles of the palace. Some- 
times I wandered along the mazes of the rivulet, and some- 
times watched the changes of the summer clouds. To a 
poet nothing can be useless. Whatever is beautiful and 
whatever is dreadful must be familiar to his imagination ; 
he must be conversant with all that is awfully vast or 
elegantly little. The plants of the garden, the animals of 
the wood, the minerals of the earth, and meteors of the sky, 
must all concur to store his mind with inexhaustible variety; 
for every idea is useful for the enforcement or decoration 
of moral or religious truth, and he who knows most will 
have most power of diversifying his scenes and of gra- 
tifying his reader with remote allusions and unexpected 

" All the appearances of nature I was therefore careful to 
study, and every country which I have surveyed has contri- 
buted something to my poetical powers." 

" In so wide a survey," said the Prince, " you must 
surely have left much unobserved. I have lived till now 
within the circuit of the mountains, and yet cannot walk 


abroad without the sight of something which I had never 
beheld before, or never heeded." 

" This business of a poet," said Imlac, " is to examine, 
not the individual, but the species ; to remark general pro- 
perties and large appearances. He does not number the 
streaks of the tulip, or describe the different shades of the 
verdure of the forest. He is to exhibit in his portraits of 
nature such prominent and striking features as recall the 
original to every mind, and must neglect the minuter discri- 
minations, which one may have remarked and another have 
neglected, for those characteristics which are alike obvious 
to vigilance and carelessness. 

" But the knowledge of nature is only half the task of a 
poet ; he must be acquainted likewise with all the modes of 
life. His character requires that he estimate the happiness 
and misery of every condition, observe the power of all the 
passions in all their combinations, and trace the changes of 
the human mind, as they are modified by various institutions 
and accidental influences of climate or custom, from the 
sprightlin ess of infancy to the despondence of decrepitude. 
He must divest himself of the prejudices of his age and 
country ; he must consider right and wrong in their abstracted 
and invariable state ; he must disregard present laws and 
opinions, and rise to general and transcendental truths, 
which will always be the same. He must, therefore, content 
himself with the slow progress of his name, contemn the 
praise of his own time, and commit his claims to the justice 
of posterity. He must write as the interpreter of nature and 
the legislator of mankind, and consider himself as presiding 
over the thoughts and manners of future generations, as 
a being superior to time and place. 

" His labour is not yet at an end. He must know many 
languages and many sciences, and, that his style may be 
worthy of his thoughts, must by incessant practice fami- 
liarize to himself every delicacy of speech and grace of 



Imlac 1 s Narrative (continued], A Hint on Pilgrimage. 

IMLAC now felt the enthusiastic fit, and was proceeding to 
aggrandize his own profession, when the Prince cried out : 
" Enough ! thou hast convinced me that no human being 
can ever be a poet. Proceed with thy narration." 

" To be a poet," said Imlac, " is indeed very difficult." 
"So difficult," returned the Prince, " that I will at present 
hear no more of his labours. Tell me whither you went 
when you had seen Persia." 

"From Persia," said the poet, " I travelled through Syria, 
and for three years resided in Palestine, where I conversed 
with great numbers of the northern and western nations of 
Europe; the nations which are now in possession of all 
power and all knowledge, whose armies are irresistible, and 
whose fleets command theremotest parts of the globe. When 
I compared these men with the natives of our own kingdom 
and those that surround us, they appeared almost another 
order of beings. In their countries it is difficult to wish for 
anything that may not be obtained : a thousand arts, of 
which we never heard, are continually labouring for their 
convenience and pleasure ; and whatever their own climate 
has denied them is supplied by their commerce." 

" By what means," said the Prince, " are the Europeans 
thus powerful ? or why, since they can so easily visit Asia 
and Africa for trade or conquest, cannot the Asiatics and 
Africans invade their coast, plant colonies in their ports, and 
give laws to their natural princes ? The same wind that 
carries them back would bring us thither." 

" They are more powerful, sir, than we," answered Imlac, 
"because they are wiser ; knowledge will always predominate 
over ignorance, as man governs the other animals. But why 
their knowledge is more than ours, I know not what reason 


can be given but the unsearchable will of the Supreme 

" When," said the Prince with a sigh, " shall I be able to 
visit Palestine, and mingle with this mighty confluence of 
nations? Till that happy moment shall arrive, let rne fill up 
the time with such representations as thou canst give me. I 
am not ignorant of the motive that assembles such numbers 
in that place, and cannot but consider it as the centre 
of wisdom and piety, to which the best and wisest men of 
every land must be continually resorting." 

" There are some nations," said Imlac, " that send few 
visitants to Palestine : for many numerous and learned sects 
in Europe concur to censure pilgrimage as superstitious, or 
deride it as ridiculous." 

" You know," said the Prince, "how little my life has made 
me acquainted with diversity of opinions ; it will be too long 
to hear the arguments on both sides ; you, that have con- 
sidered them, tell me the result." 

"Pilgrimage," said Imlac, " like many other acts of piety, 
may be reasonable or superstitious, according to the principles 
upon which it is performed. Long journeys in search of truth 
are not commanded. Truth, such as is necessary to the 
regulation of life, is always found where it is honestly sought. 
Change of place is no natural cause of the increase of piety, for 
it inevitably produces dissipation of mind. Yet, since men go 
every day to view the fields where great actions have been 
performed, and return with stronger impressions of the event, 
curiosity of the same kind may naturally dispose us to view 
that country whence our religion had its beginning, and I 
believe no man surveys those awful scenes without some con- 
firmation of holy resolutions. That the Supreme Being may 
be more easily propitiated in one place than in another, is 
the dream of idle superstition ; but that some places may 
operate upon our own minds in an uncommon manner, is 
an opinion which hourly experience will justify. He who 
supposes that his vices may be more successfully combated 

202 R ASS EL AS. 

in Palestine will perhaps find himself mistaken; yet he may 
go thither without folly : he who thinks they will be more 
freely pardoned, dishonours at once his reason and religion." 

"These," said the Prince, "are European distinctions. I 
will consider them another time. What have you found to 
be the effect of knowledge ? Are those nations happier than 

" There is so much infelicity," said the poet, " in the world, 
that scarce any man has leisure from his own distresses to 
estimate the comparative happiness of others. Knowledge 
is certainly one of the means of pleasure, as is confessed by 
the natural desire which every mind feels of increasing its 
ideas. Ignorance is mere privation, by which nothing can 
be produced ; it is a vacuity in which the soul sits motion- 
less and torpid for want of attraction ; and, without knowing 
why, we always rejoice when we learn, and grieve when we 
forget. I am therefore inclined to conclude that if nothing 
counteracts the natural consequence of learning, we grow 
more happy as our minds take a wider range. 

" In enumerating the particular comforts of life we shall 
find many advantages on the side of the Europeans. They 
cure wounds and diseases with which we languish and perish. 
We suffer inclemencies of weather which they can obviate. 
They have engines for the despatch of many laborious works, 
which we must perform by manual industry. There is such 
communication between distant places, that one friend can 
hardly be said to be absent from another. Their policy 
removes ail public inconveniences : they have roads cut 
through the mountains, and bridges laid over their rivers. 
And, if we descend to the privacies of life, their habitations 
are more commodious, and their possessions are more secure." 

" They are surely happy," said the Prince, " who have all 
these conveniences, of which I envy none so much as the 
facility with which separated friends interchange their 

" The Europeans," answered Imlac, " are less unhappy 


than we, but they are not happy. Human life is every- 
where a state in which much is to be endured and little to 
be enjoyed." 


The Story of Imlac (continued}. 

"I AM not willing," said the Prince, "to suppose that 
happiness is so parsimoniously distributed to mortals ; nor 
can I believe but that, if I had the choice of life, I should 
be able to fill every day with pleasure. I would injure no 
man, and should provoke no resentments : I would relieve 
every distress, and should enjoy the benedictions of grati- 
tude. I would choose my friends among the wise, and my 
wife among the virtuous; and therefore should be in no 
danger from treachery or unkindness. My children should 
by my care be learned and pious, and would repay to my 
age what their childhood had received. What would dare 
to molest him who might call on every side to thousands 
enriched by his bounty or assisted by his power ? And 
why should not life glide away in the soft reciprocation of 
protection and reverence ? All this may be done without 
the help of European refinements, which appear by their 
effects to be rather specious than useful. Let us leave 
them, and pursue our journey." 

" From Palestine," said Imlac, " I passed through many 
regions of Asia ; in the more civilized kingdoms as a trader, 
and among the barbarians of the mountains as a pilgrim. 
At last I began to long for my native country, that I might 
repose, after my travels and fatigues, in the places where I 
had spent my earliest years, and gladden my old companions 
with the recital of my adventures. Often did I figure to 
myself those with whom I had sported away the gay hours 
of dawning life, sitting round me in its evening, wondering 
at my tales and listening to my counsels. 

'' When this thought had taken possession of my mind I 


considered every moment as wasted which did not bring me 
nearer to Abyssinia. I hastened into Egypt, and, notwith- 
standing my impatience, was detained ten months in the 
contemplation of its ancient magnificence, and in inquiries 
after the remains of its ancient learning. I found in Cairo 
a mixture of all nations ; some brought thither by the love 
of knowledge, some by the hope of gain, many by the desire 
of living after their own manner without observation, and 
of lying hid in the obscurity of multitudes : for in a city 
populous as Cairo it is possible to obtain at the same time 
the gratifications of society and the secrecy of solitude. 

" From Cairo I travelled to Suez, and embarked on the 
Red Sea, passing along the coast till I arrived at the port 
from which I had departed twenty years before. Here I 
joined myself to a caravan, and re-entered my native 

" I now expected the caresses of my kinsmen and the 
congratulations of my friends ; and was not without hope 
that my father, whatever value he had set upon riches, 
would own with gladness and pride a son who was able to 
add to the felicity and honour of the nation. But I was 
soon convinced that my thoughts were vain. My father 
had been dead fourteen years, having divided his wealth 
among my brothers, who were removed to some other 
provinces. Of my companions, the greater part was in the 
grave ; of the rest, some could with difficulty remember me, 
and some considered me as one corrupted by foreign 

"A man used to vicissitudes is not easily dejected. I 
forgot, after a time, my disappointment, and endeavoured 
to recommend myself to the nobles of the kingdom : they 
admitted me to their tables, heard my story, and dismissed 
me. I opened a school, and was prohibited to teach. I 
then resolved to sit down in the quiet of domestic life, and 
addressed a lady that was fond of my conversation, but 
rejected my suit because my father was a merchant. 


" Wearied at last with solicitation and repulses, I resolved 
to hide myself for ever from the world, and depend no 
longer on the opinion or caprice of others. I waited for 
the time when the gate of the Happy Valley should open, 
that I might bid farewell to hope and fear : the day came ; 
my performance was distinguished with favour, and I 
resigned myself with joy to perpetual confinement." 

" Hast thou here found happiness at last ? " said Rasselas. 
" Tell me without reserve : art thou content with thy con- 
dition ? or dost thou wish to be again wandering and 
inquiring? All the inhabitants of this valley celebrate 
their lot, and at the annual visit of the Emperor invite 
others to partake of their felicity." 

" Great Prince," said Imlac, ll I shall speak the truth : I 
know not one of all your attendants who does not lament 
the hour when he entered this retreat. I am less unhappy 
than the rest, because I have a mind replete with images, 
which I can vary and combine at pleasure. I can amuse 
my solitude by the renovation of the knowledge which 
begins to fade from my memory, and by recollection of 
the accidents of my past life. Yet all this ends in the 
sorrowful consideration that my acquirements are now 
useless, and that none of my pleasures can be again enjoyed. 
The rest, whose minds have no impression but of the 
present moment, are either corroded by malignant passions, 
or sit stupid in the gloom of perpetual vacancy." 

"What passions can infest those," said the Prince, 
" who have no rivals ? We are in a place where impotence 
precludes malice, and where all envy is repressed by com- 
munity of enjoyments." 

" There may be community," said Imlac, " of material 
possessions, but there can never be community of love or of 
esteem. It must happen that one will please more than 
another : he that knows himself despised will always be 
envious ; and still more envious and malevolent if he is 
condemned to live in the presence of those who despise him. 


The invitations by which they allure others to a state which 
they feel to be wretched proceed from the natural malignity 
of hopeless misery. They are weary of themselves and of 
each other, and expect to find relief in new companions. 
They envy the liberty which their folly has forfeited, and 
would gladly see all mankind imprisoned like themselves. 

" From this crime, however, I am wholly free. No man 
can say that he is wretched by my persuasion. I look with 
pity on the crowds who are annually soliciting admission to 
captivity, and wish that it were lawful for me to warn them 
of their danger." 

" My dear Imlac," said the Prince, " I will open to thee 
my whole heart. I have long meditated an escape from 
the Happy Valley. I have examined the mountain on every 
side, but find myself insuperably barred : teach me the way 
to break my prison ; thou shalt be the companion of my 
flight, the guide of my rambles, the partner of my fortune, 
and my sole director in the choice of life." 

" Sir," answered the poet, "your escape will be difficult, 
and perhaps you may soon repent your curiosity. The 
world, which you figure to yourself smooth and quiet as the 
lake in the valley, you will find a sea foaming with tempests and 
boiling with whirlpools ; you will be sometimes overwhelmed 
by the waves of violence, and sometimes dashed against 
the rocks of treachery. Amidst wrongs and frauds, competi- 
tions and anxieties, you will wish a thousand times for these 
seats of quiet, and willingly quit hope to be free from fear." 

u Do not seek to deter me from my purpose," said the 
Prince. " I am impatient to see what thou hast seen ; and 
since thou art thyself weary of the valley, it is evident that 
thy former state was better than this. Whatever be the 
consequence of my experiment, I am resolved to judge with 
mine own eyes of the various conditions of men, and then 
to make deliberately my choice of life" 

" I am afraid," said Imlac, " you are hindered by stronger 
restraints than my persuasions ; yet, if your determination 


is fixed, I do not counsel you to despair. Few things are 
impossible to diligence and skill." 


fiasselas discovers the Means. of Escape. 

THE Prince now dismissed his favourite to rest j but the 
narrative of wonders and novelties filled his mind with per- 
turbation. He revolved all that he had heard, and prepared 
innumerable questions for the morning. 

Much of his uneasiness was now removed. He had a 
friend to whom he could impart his thoughts, and whose 
experience could assist him in his designs. His heart was 
no longer condemned to swell with silent vexation. He 
thought that even the Happy Valley might be endured with 
such a companion, and that if they could range the world 
together, he should have nothing further to desire. 

In a few days the water was discharged, and the ground 
dried. The Prince and Imlac then walked out together, to 
converse without the notice of the rest The Prince, whose 
thoughts were always on the wing, as he passed by the gate 
said, with a countenance of sorrow, " Why art thou so strong, 
and why is man so weak ? " 

a Man is not weak," answered his companion; "know- 
ledge is more than equivalent to force. The master of 
mechanics laughs at strength. I can burst the gate, but cannot 
do it secretly. Some other expedient must be tried." 

As they were walking on the side of the mountain they 
observed that the coneys, which the rain had driven from 
their burrows, had taken shelter among the bushes, and 
formed holes behind them, tending upwards in an oblique 
line. " It has been the opinion of antiquity," said Imlac, 
" that human reason borrowed many arts from the instinct 
of animals ; let us therefore not think ourselves degraded 
by learning from the coney. We may escape by piercing the 
mountain in the same direction. We will besrin where the 


summit hangs over the middle part, and labour upward till 
we shall issue out beyond the prominence." 

The eyes of the Prince, when he heard this proposal, 
sparkled with joy. The execution was easy and the success 

No time was now lost. They hastened early in the 
morning to choose a place proper for their mine. They 
clambered with great fatigue among crags and brambles, 
and returned without having discovered any part that 
favoured their design. The second and the third day were 
spent in the same manner, and with the same frustration ; 
but on the fourth they found a small cavern concealed by a 
thicket, where they resolved to make their experiment. 

Imlac procured instruments proper to hew stone and 
remove earth, and they fell to their work on the next day 
with more eagerness than vigour. They were presently 
exhausted by their efforts, and sat down to pant upon the 
grass. The Prince for a moment appeared to be dis- 
couraged. " Sir," said his companion, " practice will 
enable us to continue our labour for a longer time. Mark, 
however, how far we have advanced, and ye will find that 
our toil will sometime have an end. Great works are per- 
formed not by strength, but perseverance ; yonder palace 
was raised by single stones, yet you see its height and spa- 
ciousness. He that shall walk with vigour three hours a 
day will pass in seven years a space equal to the circum- 
ference of the globe." 

They returned to their work day after day, and in a short 
time found a fissure in the rock, which enabled them to pass 
far with very little obstruction. This Rasselas considered as 
a good omen. " Do not disturb your mind," said Imlac, 
<; with other hopes or fears than reason may suggest : if you 
are pleased with the prognostics of good, you will be terrified 
likewise with tokens of evil, and your whole life will be a 
prey to superstition. Whatever facilitates our work is more 
an pmen ; it is a cause of success, This is one of those 


pleasing surprises which often happen to active resolution. 
Many things difficult to design prove easy to performance." 


Rasselas and Imlac receive an Unexpected Visit. 

THEY had now wrought their way to the middle, and solaced 
their toil with the approach of liberty, when the Prince, 
coming down to refresh himself with air, found his sister 
Nekayah standing at the mouth of the cavity. He started, 
and stood confused, afraid to tell his design, and yet hope- 
less to conceal it. A few moments determined him to re- 
pose on her fidelity, and secure her secrecy by a declaration 
without reserve. 

" Do not imagine," said the Princess, " that I came hither 
as a spy. I had long observed from my window that you 
and Imlac directed your walk every day towards the same 
point, but I did not suppose you had any better reason for the 
preference than a cooler shade or more fragrant bank, nor 
followed you with any other design than to partake of your 
conversation. Since, then, not suspicion but fondness has 
detected you, let me not lose the advantage of my discovery. 
I am equally weary of confinement with yourself, and not less 
desirous of knowing what is done or suffered in the world. 
Permit me to fly with you from this tasteless tranquillity, 
which will yet grow more loathsome when you have left me. 
You may deny me to accompany you, but cannot hinder 
me from following." 

The Prince, who loved Nekayah above his other sisters, 
had no inclination to refuse her request, and grieved that he 
had lost an opportunity of showing his confidence by a 
voluntary communication. It was therefore agreed that she 
should leave the valley with them ; and that in the mean- 
time she should watch, lest any other straggler should, by 
chance or curiosity, follow them to the mountain. 

At length their labour was at an end- They saw light 


beyond the prominence, and issuing to the top of the moun- 
tain, beheld the Nile, yet a narrow current, wandering 
beneath them. 

The Prince looked round with rapture, anticipated all the 
pleasures of travel, and in thought was already transported 
beyond his father's dominions. Imlac, though very joyful 
at his escape, had less expectation of pleasure in the world, 
which he had before tried and of which he had been weary. 

Rasselas was so much delighted with a wider horizon 
that he could not soon be persuaded to return into the 
valley. He informed his sister that the way was now open, 
and that nothing now remained but to prepare for their 

The Prince and Princess leave the Valley ', and see many Wonders. 

THE Prince and Princess had jewels sufficient to make them 
rich whenever they came into a place of commerce, which, 
by Imlac's direction, they hid in their clothes, and on the 
night of the next full moon all left the valley. The Prin- 
cess was followed only by a single favourite, who did not 
know whither she was going. 

They clambered through the cavity, and began to go 
down on the other side. The Princess and her maid turned 
their eyes toward every part, and seeing nothing to bound 
their prospect, considered themselves in clanger of being lost 
in a dreary vacuity. They stopped and trembled. " I am 
almost afraid," said the Princess, " to begin a journey of 
which I cannot perceive an end, and to venture into this 
immense plain, where I may be approached on every side 
by men whom I never saw." The Prince felt nearly the 
same emotions, though he thought it more manly to con- 
ceal them. 

Imlac smiled at their terrors, and encouraged them to 
proceed. But the Princess continued irresolute till she had 
been imperceptibly drawn forward too far to return. 


In the morning they found some shepherds in the field, 
who set some milk and fruits before them. The Princess 
wondered that she did not see a palace ready for her recep- 
tion and a table spread- with delicacies ; but being faint and 
hungry, she drank the milk and ate the fruits, and thought 
them of a higher flavour than the products of the valley. 

They travelled forward by easy journeys, being all un- 
accustomed to toil and difficulty, and knowing that, though 
they might be missed, they could not be pursued. In a 
few days they came into a more populous region, where 
Imlac was diverted with the admiration which his com- 
panions expressed at the diversity of manners, stations, and 
employments. Their dress was such as might not bring 
upon them the suspicion of having anything to conceal ; yet 
the Prince, wherever he came, expected to be obeyed, and 
the Princess was frighted because those who came into her 
presence did not prostrate themselves. Imlac was forced to 
observe them with great vigilance, lest they should betray 
their rank by their unusual behaviour, and detained them 
several weeks in the first village to accustom them to the 
sight of common mortals. 

By degrees the royal wanderers were taught to understand 
that they had for a time laid aside their dignity, and were to 
expect only such regard as liberality and courtesy could 
procure. And Imlac having by many admonitions pre- 
pared them to endure the tumults of a port and the rugged- 
ness of the commercial race, brought them down to the 

The Prince and his sister, to whom everything was new, 
were gratified equally at all places, and therefore remained 
for some months at the port without any inclination to pass 
further. Imlac was content with their stay, because he did 
not think it safe to expose them, unpractised in the world, 
to the hazards of a foreign country. 

At last he began to fear lest they should be discovered, 
and proposed to fix a day for their departure. They had no 


pretensions to judge for themselves, and referred the whole 
scheme to his direction. He therefore took passage in a 
ship to Suez, and, when the time came, with great difficulty 
prevailed on the Princess to enter the vessel. They had a 
quick and prosperous voyage, and from Suez travelled by 
land to Cairo. 


They enter Cairo, and find every Man happy. 

As they approached the city, which filled the strangers 
with astonishment, " This," said Imlac to the Prince, " is 
the place where travellers and merchants assemble from all 
corners of the earth. You will here find men of every cha- 
racter and every occupation. Commerce is here honour- 
able. I will act as a merchant, and you shall live as 
strangers who have no other end of travel than curiosity ; 
it will soon be observed that we are rich. Our reputation 
will procure us access to all whom we shall desire to know ; 
you shall see all the conditions of humanity, and enable 
yourselves at leisure to make your choice of life" 

They now entered the town, stunned by the noise and 
offended by the crowds. Instruction had not yet so pre- 
vailed over habit but that they wondered to see themselves 
pass undistinguished along the streets, and met by the 
lowest of the people without reverence or notice. The 
Princess could not at first bear the thought of being levelled 
with the vulgar, and for some time continued in her chamber, 
where she was served by her favourite Pekuah, as in the 
palace of the valley. 

Imlac, who understood traffic, sold part of the jewels the 
next day, and hired a house, which he adorned with such 
magnificence that he was immediately considered as a 
merchant of great wealth. His politeness attracted many 
acquaintances, and his generosity made him courted by 
many dependants. His companions, not being able to mix 
in the conversation, could make no discovery of their 

R ASS EL AS. 213 

ignorance or surprise, and were gradually initialed in the 
world as they gained knowledge of the language. 

The Prince had by frequent lectures been taught the use 
and nature of money ; but the ladies could not for a long 
time comprehend what the merchants did with small pieces 
of gold and silver, or why things of so little use should be 
received as an equivalent to the necessaries of life. 

They studied the language two years, while Imlac was 
preparing to set before them the various ranks and conditions 
of mankind. He grew acquainted with all who had any- 
thing uncommon in their fortune or conduct. He frequented 
the voluptuous and the frugal, the idle and the busy, the 
merchants and the men of learning. 

The Prince now being able to converse with fluency, and 
having learned the caution necessary to be observed in his 
intercourse with strangers, began to accompany Imlac to 
places of resort, and to enter into all assemblies, that he 
might make his choice of life. 

For some time he thought choice needless, because all 
appeared to him really happy. Wherever he went he met 
gaiety and kindness, and heard the song of joy or the laugh 
of carelessness. He began to believe that the world over- 
flowed with universal plenty, and that nothing was withheld 
either from want or merit ; that every hand showered libe- 
rality and every heart melted with benevolence : " And who 
then," says he, "will be suffered to be wretched?" 

Imlac permitted the pleasing delusion, and was unwilling 
to crush the hope of inexperience : till one day, having sat 
a while silent, " I know not," said the Prince, " what can be 
the reason that I am more unhappy than any of our friends. 
I see them perpetually and unalterably cheerful, but feel 
my own mind restless and uneasy. I am unsatisfied with 
those pleasures which I seem most to court. I live in the 
crowds of jollity, not so much to enjoy company as to shun 
myself, and am only loud and merry to concearmy sadness." 

" Every man," said Imlac, " may by examining his own 


mind guess what passes in the mkids of others. When you 
feel that your own gaiety is counterfeit, it may justly lead you 
to suspect that of your companions not to be sincere. Envy 
is commonly reciprocal. We are long before we are con- 
vinced that happiness is never to be found, and each 
believes it possessed by others, to keep alive the hope of 
obtaining it for himself. In the assembly where you passed 
the last night there appeared such sprightliness of air and 
volatility of fancy as might have suited beings of a higher 
order, formed to inhabit serener regions, inaccessible to care 
or sorrow ; yet, believe me, Prince, there was not one who 
did not dread the moment when solitude should deliver him 
to the tyranny of reflection." 

" This," said the Prince, " may be true of others since it is 
true of me ; yet, whatever be the general infelicity of man, 
one condition is more happy than another, and wisdom 
surely directs us to take the least evil in the choice of life." 

"The causes of good and evil," answered Imlac, "are so 
various and uncertain, so often entangled with each other, 
so diversified by various relations, and so much subject to 
accidents which cannot be foreseen, that he who would fix 
his condition upon incontestible reasons of preference must 
live and die inquiring and deliberating." 

" But, surely," said Rasselas, " the wise men, to whom we 
listen with reverence and wonder, chose that mode of life 
for themselves which they thought most likely to make them 

" Very few," said the poet, " live by choice. Every man 
is placed in the present condition by causes which acted 
without his foresight, and with which he did not always 
willingly co-operate ; and therefore you will rarely meet one 
who does not think the lot of his neighbour better than his 

"I am pleased to think," said the Prince, " that my birth 
has given me at least one advantage over others by enabling 
me to determine for myself. I have here the world before 


me. I will review it at leisure : surely happiness is some- 
where to be found." 


The Prince associates with. Young Men of Spirit and Gaiety. 

RASSELAS rose next day, and resolved to begin his experi- 
ments upon life. " Youth," cried he, " is the time of glad- 
ness : I will join myself to the young men whose only 
business is to gratify their desires, and whose time is all 
spent in a succession of enjoyments." 

To such societies he was readily admitted, but a few days 
brought him back weary and disgusted. Their mirth was 
without images, their laughter without motive; their pleasures 
were gross and sensual, in which the mind had no part ; 
their conduct was at once wild and mean they laughed at 
order and at law, but the frown of power dejected and the 
eye of wisdom abashed them. 

The Prince soon concluded that he shonld never be 
happy in a course of life of which he was ashamed. He 
thought it unsuitable to a reasonable being to act without a 
plan, and to be sad or cheerful only by chance. " Happi- 
ness," said he, " must be something solid and permanent, 
without fear and without uncertainty." 

But his young companions had gained so much of his re- 
gard by their frankness and courtesy that he could not leave 
them without warning and remonstrance. " My friends," 
said he, " I have seriously considered our manners and our 
prospects, and find that we have mistaken our own interest 
The first years of man must make provision for the last. He 
that never thinks, never can be wise. Perpetual levity must 
end in ignorance, and intemperance, though it may fire the 
spirits for an hour, will make life short or miserable. Let us 
consider that youth is of no long duration, and that in 
mature age, when the enchantments of fancy shall cease, and 
phantoms of delight dance no more about us, we shall have 


no comforts but the esteem of wise men and the means of 
doing good. Let us therefore stop while to stop is in our 
power : let us live as men who are some time to grow old, 
and to whom it will be the most dreadful of all evils to count 
their past years by follies, and to be reminded of their 
former luxuriance of health only by the maladies which riot 
has produced." 

They stared awhile in silence one upon another, and at last 
drove him away by a general chorus of continued laughter. 

The consciousness that his sentiments were just and his 
intention kind was scarcely sufficient to support him against 
the horror of derision. But he recovered his tranquillity and 
pursued his search. 


7"he Prince finds a Wise and Happy Man. 

As he was one day walking in the street he saw a spacious 
building which all were by the open doors invited to enter. 
He followed the stream of people, and found ita hall or school 
of declamation, in which professors read lectures to their 
auditory. He fixed his eye upon a sage raised above the rest, 
who discoursed with great energy on the government of the 
passions. His look was venerable, his action graceful, his 
pronunciation clear, and his diction elegant. He showed 
with great strength of sentiment and variety of illustration 
that human nature is degraded and debased when the lower 
faculties predominate over the higher ; that when fancy, the 
parent of passion, usurps the dominion of the mind, nothing 
ensues but the natural effect of unlawful government, perturb- 
ation, and confusion ; that she betrays the fortresses of the 
intellect to rebels, and excites her children to sedition 
against their lawful sovereign. He compared reason to the 
sun, of which the light is constant, uniform, and lasting ; and 
fancy to a meteor, of bright but transitory lustre, irregular in 
its motion and delusive in its direction, 

ZASS2LAS. 217 

He then communicated the various precepts given from 
time to time for the conquest of passion, and displayed the 
happiness of those who had obtained the important victory, 
after which man is no longer the slave of fear nor the fool 
of hope ; is no more emaciated by envy, inflamed by anger, 
emasculated by tenderness, or depressed by grief; but walks 
on calmly through the tumults or privacies of life, as the 
sun pursues alike his course through the calm or the stormy 

He enumerated many examples of heroes immovable by 
pain or pleasure, who looked with indifference on those 
modes or accidents to which the vulgar give the names of 
good and evil. He exhorted his hearers to lay aside their 
prejudices, and arm themselves against the shafts of malice 
or misfortune, by invulnerable patience : concluding that 
this state only was happiness, and that this happiness was in 
every one's power. 

Rasselas listened to him with the veneration due to the 
instructions of a superior being, and waiting for him at the 
door, humbly implored the liberty of visiting so great a 
master of true wisdom. The lecturer hesitated a moment, 
when Rasselas put a purse of gold into his hand, which he 
received with a mixture of joy and wonder. 

" I have found," said the Prince at his return to Imlac, 
" a man who can teach all that is necessary to be known ; 
who, from the unshaken throne of rational fortitude, looks 
down on the scenes of life changing beneath him. He 
speaks, and attention watches his lips. He reasons, and 
conviction closes his periods. This man shall be my future 
guide : I will learn his doctrines and imitate his life." 

" Be not too hasty," said Imlac, " to trust or to admire 
the teachers of morality : they discourse like angels, but 
they live like men." 

Rasselas, who could not conceive how any man could 
reason so forcibly without feeling the cogency of his own 
arguments, paid his visit in a few days, and was denied 


admission. He had now learned the power of money, and 
made his way by a piece of gold to the inner apartment, 
where he found the philosopher in a room half darkened, 
with his eyes misty and his face pale. " Sir," said he, "you 
are come at a time when all human friendship is useless ; 
what I suffer cannot be remedied, what I have lost cannot 
be supplied. My daughter, my only daughter, from whose 
tenderness I expected all the comforts of my age, died 
last night of a fever. My views, my purposes, my hopes 
are at an end : I am now a lonely being, disunited from 

"Sir," said the Prince, "mortality is an event by which a 
wise man can never be surprised : we know that death is 
always near, and it should therefore always be expected." 
" Young man/' answered the philosopher, " you speak like 
one that has never felt the pangs of separation." " Have 
you then forgot the precepts," said Rasselas, " which you so 
powerfully enforced ? Has wisdom no strength to arm the 
heart against calamity ? Consider that external things are 
naturally variable, but truth and reason are always the 
same." " What comfort," said the mourner, " can truth and 
reason afford me ? Of what effect are they now, but to tell 
me that my daughter will not be restored ? " 

The Prince, whose humanity would not suffer him to 
insult misery with reproof, went away, convinced of the 
emptiness of rhetorical sounds, and the inefficacy of polished 
periods and studied sentences. 


A Glimpse of Pastoral Life. 

HE was still eager upon the same inquiry ; and having heard 
of a hermit that lived near the lowest cataract of the Nile, 
and filled the whole country with the fame of his sanctity, 
resolved to visit his retreat, and inquire whether that felicity 
which public life could not afford was to be found in 


solitude, and whether a man whose age and virtue made 
him venerable could teach any peculiar art of shunning 
evils or enduring them. 

Imlac and the Princess agreed to accompany him, and 
after the necessary preparations, they began their journey. 
Their way lay through the fields, where shepherds tended 
their flocks and the lambs were playing upon the pasture. 
" This," said the poet, " is the life which has been often 
celebrated for its innocence and quiet; let us pass the 
heat of the day among the shepherds' tents, and know 
whether all our searches are not to terminate in pastoral 

The proposal pleased them ; and they induced the shep- 
herds, by small presents and familiar questions, to tell the 
opinion of their own state. They were so rude and ignorant, 
so little able to compare the good with the evil of the occu- 
pation, and so indistinct in their narratives and descriptions, 
that very little could be learned from them. But it was 
evident that their hearts were cankered with discontent ; that 
they considered themselves as condemned to labour for the 
luxury of the rich, and looked up with stupid malevolence 
towards those that were placed above them. 

The Princess pronounced with vehemence that she would 
never suffer these envious savages to be her companions, 
and that she should not soon be desirous of seeing any more 
specimens of rustic happiness ; but could not believe that 
all the accounts of primeval pleasures were fabulous, and 
was in doubt whether life had anything that could be justly 
preferred to the placid gratification of fields and woods. She 
hoped that the time would come when, with a few virtuous 
and elegant companions, she should gather flowers planted 
by her own hands, fondle the lambs of her own ewe, and 
listen without care, among brooks and breezes, to one of her 
maidens reading in the shade. 



The Danger of Prosperity. 

ON the next day they continued their journey till the heat 
compelled them to look round for shelter. At a small dis- 
tance they saw a thick wood, which they no sooner entered 
than they perceived that they were approaching the habita- 
tions of men. The shrubs were diligently cut away to open 
walks where the shades were darkest ; the boughs of oppo- 
site trees were artificially interwoven seats of flowery turf 
were raised in vacant spaces ; and a rivulet that wantoned 
along the side of a winding path had its banks sometimes 
opened into small basins, and its stream sometimes obstructed 
by little mounds of stone heaped together to increase its 

They 'passed slowly through the wood, delighted with 
such unexpected accommodations, and entertained each 
other with conjecturing what or who he could be that in 
those rude and unfrequented regions had leisure and art for 
such harmless luxury. 

As they advanced they heard the sound of music, and 
saw youths and virgins dancing in the grove ; and going 
still farther beheld a stately palace built upon a hill sur- 
rounded by woods. The laws of Eastern hospitality allowed 
them to enter, and the master welcomed them like a man 
liberal and wealthy. 

He was skilful enough in appearances soon to discern 
that they were no common guests, and spread his table with 
magnificence. The eloquence of Imlac caught his atten- 
tion, and the lofty courtesy of the Princess excited his 
respect. When they offered to depart, he entreated their 
stay, and was the next day more unwilling to dismiss them 
than before. They were easily persuaded to stop, and civility 
grew up in time to freedom and confidence. 

The Prince now saw all the domestics cheerful and all 
the face of nature smiling round the place, and could not 


forbear to hope that he should find here what he was seek- 
ing ; but when he was congratulating the master upon his 
possessions he answered with a sigh, " My condition has 
indeed the appearance of happiness, but appearances are 
delusive. My prosperity puts my life in danger : the Bassa 
of Egypt is my enemy, incensed only by my wealth and 
popularity. I have been hitherto protected against him by 
the princes of the country ; but as the favour of the great is 
uncertain, I know not how soon my defenders may be per- 
suaded to share the plunder with the Bassa. I have sent 
my treasures into a distant country, and upon the first 
alarm am prepared to follow them. Then will my enemies 
riot in my mansion, and enjoy the gardens which I have 

They all joined in lamenting his danger and deprecating 
his exile ; and the Princess was so much disturbed with the 
tumult of grief and indignation that she retired to her apart- 
ment. They continued with their kind inviter a few days 
longer, and then went to find the hermit. 


The Happiness of Solitude. The Hermits History. 

THEY came on the third day, by the direction of the 
peasants, to the hermit's cell. It was a cavern in the side 
of a mountain, overshadowed with palm trees, at such a 
distance from the cataract that nothing more was heard than 
a gentle uniform murmur, such as composes the mind to 
pensive meditation, especially when it was assisted by the 
wind whistling among the branches. The first rude essay of 
nature had been so much improved by human labour that 
the cave contained several apartments appropriated to dif- 
ferent uses, and often afforded lodging to travellers whom 
darkness or tempests happened to overtake. 

The hermit sat on a bench at the door, to enjoy the 
coolness of the evening. On one side lay a book with 


pens and paper, on the other mechanical instruments of 
various kinds. As they approached him unregarded, the 
Princess observed that he had not the countenance of a man 
that had found or could teach the way to happiness. 

They saluted him with great respect, which he repaid like 
a man not unaccustomed to the forms of Courts. " My 
children," said he, " if you have lost your way, you shall be 
willingly supplied with such conveniences for the night as 
this cavern will afford. I have all that nature requires, and 
you will not expect delicacies in a hermit's cell." 

They thanked him ; and, entering, were pleased with the 
neatness and regularity of the place. The hermit set flesh 
and wine before them, though he fed only upon fruits and 
water. His discourse was cheerful without levity, and pious 
without enthusiasm. He soon gained the esteem of his 
guests, and the Princess repented her hasty censure. 

At last Imlac began thus : " I do not now wonder that 
your reputation is so far extended : we have heard at Cairo 
of your wisdom, and came hither to implore your direction 
for this young man and maiden in the choice of life" 

" To him that lives well," answered the hermit, " every 
form of life is good; nor can I give any other rule for 
choice than to remove all apparent evil." 

"He will most certainly remove from evil," said the 
Prince, " who shall devote himself to that solitude which 
you have recommended by your example." 

" I have indeed lived fifteen years in solitude," said the 
hermit, " but have no desire that my example should gain 
any imitators. In my youth I professed arms, and was 
raised by degrees to the highest military rank. I have 
traversed wide countries at the head of my troops, and seen 
many battles and sieges. At last, being disgusted by the 
preferments of a younger officer, and feeling that my vigour 
was beginning to decay, I resolved to close my life in peace, 
having found the world full of snares, discord, and misery. 
I had once escaped from the pursuit of the enemy by the 

R ASS EL AS. 223 

shelter of this cavern, and therefore chose it for my final 
residence. I employed artificers to form it into chambers, 
and stored it with all that I was likely to want. 

"For some time after my retreat I rejoiced like a 
tempest-beaten sailor at his entrance into the harbour, being 
delighted with the sudden change of the noise and hurry of 
war to stillness and repose. When the pleasure of novelty 
went away, I employed my hours in examining the plants 
which grow in the valley, and the minerals which I collected 
from the rocks. But that inquiry is now grown tasteless and 
irksome. I have been for some time unsettled and distracted : 
my mind is disturbed with a thousand perplexities of doubt 
and vanities of imagination, which hourly prevail upon me, 
because I have no opportunities of relaxation or diversion. 
I am sometimes ashamed to think that I could not secure 
myself from vice but by retiring from the exercise of virtue, 
and begin to suspect that I was rather impelled by resent- 
ment than led by devotion into solitude. My fancy riots in 
scenes of folly, and I lament that I have lost so much, and 
have gained so little. In solitude, if I escape the example 
of bad men, I want likewise the counsel and conversation 
of the good. I have been long comparing the evils with 
the advantages of society, and resolve to return into the 
world to-morrow. The life of a solitary man will be 
certainly miserable, but not certainly devout." 

They heard his resolution with surprise, but after a short 
pause offered to conduct him to Cairo. He dug up a con- 
siderable treasure which he had hid among the rocks, and 
accompanied them to the city, on which, as he approached 
it, he gazed with rapture. 


The Happiness of a Life led according to Nature. 

RASSELAS went often to an assembly of learned men, who 
met at stated times to unbend their minds and compare 

224 R ASS EL A3. 

their opinions. Their manners were somewhat coarse, but 
their conversation was instructive, and their disputations 
acute, though sometimes too violent, and often continued 
till neither controvertist remembered upon what question 
he began. Some faults were almost general among them : 
every one was pleased to hear the genius or knowledge of 
another depreciated. 

In this assembly Rasselas was relating his interview with 
the hermit, and the wonder with which he heard him cen- 
sure a course of life which he had so deliberately chosen 
and so laudably followed. The sentiments of the hearers 
were various. Some were of opinion that the folly of his 
choice had been justly punished by condemnation to per- 
petual perseverance. One of the youngest among them, 
with great vehemence, pronounced him a hypocrite. Some 
talked of the right of society to the labour of individuals, 
and considered retirement as a desertion of duty. Others 
readily allowed that there was a time when the claims of the 
public were satisfied, and when a man might properly 
sequester himself, to review his life and purify his heart. 

One, who appeared more affected with the narrative thaq 
the rest, thought it likely that the hermit would in a few 
years go back to his retreat, and perhaps, if shame did not 
restrain or death intercept him, return once more from his 
retreat into the world. " For the hope of happiness," said 
he, " is so strongly impressed, that the longest experience 
is not able to efface it. Of the present state, whatever it 
be, we feel arid are forced to confess the misery ; yet 
when the same state is again at a distance, imagination 
paints it as desirable. But the time will surely come when 
desire will no longer be our torment, and no man shall be 
wretched but by his own fault. 

" This," said a philosopher who had heard him with tokens 
of great impatience, " is the present condition of a wise man. 
The time is already come when none are wretched but by 
their own fault. Nothing is more idle than to inquire after 


happiness which nature has kindly placed within our reach. 
The way to be happy is to live according to nature, in 
obedience to that universal and unalterable law with which 
every heart is originally impressed ; which is not written on 
it by precept, but engraven by destiny; not instilled by 
education, but infused at our nativity. He that lives accord- 
ing to nature will suffer nothing from the delusions of hope 
or importunities of desire ; he will receive and reject with 
equability of temper ; and act or suffer as the reason of 
things shall alternately prescribe. Other men may amuse 
themselves with subtle definitions or intricate ratiocination. 
Let them learn to be wise by easier means : let them observe 
the hind of the forest and the linnet of the grove : let them 
consider the life of animals, whose motions are regulated by 
instinct ; they obey their guide, and are happy. Let us 
therefore at length cease to dispute, and learn to live : 
throw away the encumbrance of precepts, which they who 
utter them with so much pride and pomp do not under- 
stand, and carry with us this simple and intelligible maxim : 
that deviation from nature is deviation from happiness." 

When he had spoken he looked round him with a placid 
air, and enjoyed the consciousness of his own beneficence. 

"Sir," said the Prince with great modesty, "as I, like all 
the rest of mankind, am desirous of felicity, my closest 
attention has been fixed upon your discourse : I doubt not 
the truth of a position which a man so learned has so con- 
fidently advanced. Let me only know what it is to live 
according to nature." 

" When I find young men so humble and so docile," said 
the philosopher, " I can deny them no information which 
my studies have enabled me to afford. To live according 
to nature is to act always with due regard to the fitness 
arising from the relations and qualities of causes and effects ; 
to concur with the great and unchangeable scheme of 
universal felicity; to co-operate with the general disposition 
and tendency of the present system of things." 


The Prince soon found that this was one of the sages 
whom he should understand less as he heard him longer. 
He therefore bowed and was silent ; and the philosopher, 
supposing him satisfied and the rest vanquished, rose up 
and departed with the air of a man that had co-operated 
with the present system. 


The Prince and his Sister divide between them the Work 
of Observation. 

RASSELAS returned home full of reflections, doubting how 
to direct his future steps. Of the way to happiness he 
found the learned and simple equally ignorant ; but as he 
was yet young, he flattered himself that he had time remain- 
ing for more experiments and further inquiries. He com- 
municated to Imlac his observations and his doubts, but 
was answered by him with new doubts and remarks that 
gave him no comfort. He therefore discoursed more fre- 
quently and freely with his sister, who had yet the same 
hope with himself, and always assisted him to give some 
reason why, though he had been hitherto frustrated, he 
might succeed at last. 

"We have hitherto," said she, " known but little of the 
world ; we have never yet been either great or mean. In 
our own country, though we had royalty, we had no power ; 
and in this we have not yet seen the private recesses of 
domestic peace. Imlac favours not our search, lest we 
should in time find him mistaken. We will divide the task 
between us ; you shall try what is to be found in the splen- 
dour of Courts, and I will range the shades of humbler 
life. Perhaps command and authority may be the supreme 
blessings, as they afford the most opportunities of doing 
good ; or perhaps what this world can give may be found 
in the modest habitations of middle fortune too low for 
great designs, and too high for penury and distress." 




The Prince examines the Happiness of high Stations. 

RASSELAS applauded the design, and appeared next day 
with a splendid retinue at the Court of the Bassa. He was 
soon distinguished for his magnificence, and admitted, as a 
Prince whose curiosity had brought him from distant coun- 
tries, to an intimacy with the great officers and frequent 
conversation with the Bassa himself. 

He was at first inclined to believe that the man must be 
pleased with his own condition whom all approached with 
reverence and heard with obedience, and who had the 
power to extend his edicts to a whole kingdom. " There 
can be no pleasure," said he, " equal to that of feeling at 
once the joy of thousands all made happy by wise adminis- 
tration. Yet, since by the law of subordination this 
sublime delight can be in one nation but the lot of one, it 
is surely reasonable to think that there is some satisfaction 
more popular and accessible, and that millions can hardly 
be subjected to the will of a single man, only to fill his 
particular breast with incommunicable content." 

These thoughts were often in his mind, and he found no 
solution of the difficulty. But as presents and civilities 
gained him more familiarity, he found that almost every 
man who stood high in his employment hated all the rest 
and was hated by them, and that their lives were a continual 
succession of plots and detections, stratagems and escapes, 
faction and treachery. Many of those who surrounded the 
Bassa were sent only to watch and report his conduct : 
every tongue was muttering censure, and every eye was 
searching for a fault. 

At last the letters of revocation arrived : the Bassa was 
carried in chains to Constantinople, and his name was men- 
tioned no more. 

" What are we now to think of the prerogatives of power ? " 
said Rasselas to his sister ; " is it without efficacy to good ? 


or is the subordinate degree only dangerous, and the 
supreme safe and glorious ? Is the Sultan the only happy 
man in his dominions ? or is the Sultan himself subject to 
the torments of suspicion and the dread of enemies ? " 

In a short time the second Bassa was deposed. The 
Sultan that had advanced him was murdered by the Janis- 
saries, and his successor had other views or different 


The Princess pursues her Inquiry with more Diligence 
than Success. 

THE Princess in the meantime insinuated herself into many 
families ; for there are few doors through which liberality, 
joined with good humour, cannot find its way. The 
daughters of many houses were airy and cheerful ; but 
Nekayah had been too long accustomed to the conversation 
of Imlac and her brother to be much pleased with childish 
levity and prattle which had no meaning. She found their 
thoughts narrow, their wishes low, and their merriment often 
artificial. Their pleasures, poor as they were, could not be 
preserved pure, but were embittered by petty competitions 
and worthless emulation. They were always jealous of the 
beauty of each other, of a quality to which solicitude can add 
nothing, and from which detraction can take nothing away. 
Many were in love with triflers like themselves, and many 
fancied that they were in love when in truth they were only 
idle. Their affection was not fixed on sense or virtue, and 
therefore seldom ended but in vexation. Their grief, how- 
ever, like their joy, was transient ; everything floated in 
their mind unconnected with the past or future, so that one 
desire easily gave way to another, as a second stone, cast 
into the water, effaces and confounds the circles of the first/ 
With these girls she played as with inoffensive animals, 
and found them proud of her countenance and weary of her 


But her purpose was to examine more deeply, and her 
affability easily persuaded the hearts that were swelling with 
sorrow to discharge their secrets in her ear, and those whom 
hope flattered or prosperity delighted often courted her to 
partake their pleasure. 

The Princess and her brother commonly met in the 
evening in a private summer-house on the banks of the 
Nile, and related to each other the occurrences of the day. 
As they were sitting together the Princess cast her eyes 
upon the river that flowed before her. "Answer," said she, 
" great father of waters, thou that rollest thy floods through 
eighty nations, to the invocations of the daughter of thy 
native king. Tell me if thou waterest through all thy course 
a single habitation from which thou dost not hear the 
murmurs of complaint." 

" You are then," said Rasselas, not more successful in 
private houses than I have been in Courts." "I have, since 
the last partition of our provinces," said the Princess, " en- 
abled myself to enter familiarly into many families, where 
there was the fairest show of prosperity and peace, and know 
not one house that is not haunted by some fury that de- 
stroys their quiet. 

" I did not seek ease among the poor, because I concluded 
that there it could not be found. But I saw many poor 
whom I had supposed to live in affluence. Poverty has in 
large cities very different appearances. It is often concealed 
iu splendour and often in extravagance. It is the care of a 
very great part of mankind to conceal their indigence from 
the rest. They support themselves by temporary expe- 
dients, and every day is lost in contriving for the morrow. 

" This, however, was an evil which, though frequent, I 
saw with less pain, because I could relieve it. Yet some 
have refused my bounties, more offended with my quickness 
to detect their wants than pleased with my readiness to 
succour them ; and others, whose exigences compelled them 
to admit my kindness, have never been able to forgive their 


benefactress. Many, however, have been sincerely grateful 
without the ostentation of gratitude or the hope of other 


The Princess continues her Remarks iipon Private Life. 

NEKAYAH, perceiving her brother's attention fixed, proceeded 
in her narrative. 

" In families where there is or is not poverty there is com- 
monly discord. If a kingdom be, as Imlac tells us, a great 
family, a family likewise is a little kingdom, torn with fac- 
tions and exposed to revolutions. An unpractised observer 
expects the love of parents and children to be constant and 
equal. But this kindness seldom continues beyond the 
years of infancy ; in a short time the children become rivals 
to their parents. Benefits are allowed by reproaches, and 
gratitude debased by envy. 

" Parents and children seldom act in concert ; each child 
endeavours to appropriate the esteem or the fondness of the 
parents ; and the parents, with yet less temptation, betray 
each other to their children. Thus some place their confidence 
in the father and some in the mother, and by degrees the 
house is filled with artifices and feuds. 

" The opinions of children and parents, of the young and 
the old, are naturally opposite, by the contrary effects of hope 
and despondency, of expectation and experience, without 
crime or folly on either side. The colours of life in youth 
and age appear different, as the face of nature in spring and 
winter. And how can children credit the assertions of 
parents which their own eyes show them to be false ? 

" Few parents act in such a manner as much to enforce 
theii maxims' by the credit of their lives. The old man 
trusts wholly to slow contrivance and gradual progression ; 
the youth expects to force his way by genius, vigour, and 
precipitance. The old man pays regard to riches, and the 
youth reverences virtue. The old man deifies prudence ; 


the youth commits himself to magnanimity and chance. 
The young man, who intends no ill, believes that none is 
intended, and therefore acts with openness and candour ; 
but his father, having suffered the injuries of fraud, is im- 
pelled to suspect and too often allured to practise it. Age 
looks with anger on the temerity of youth, and youth with 
contempt on the scrupulosity of age. Thus parents and 
children for the greatest part live on to love less and less ; 
and if those whom nature has thus closely united are the 
torments of each other, where shall we look for tenderness 
and consolation ? " 

" Surely," said the Prince, " you must have been unfor- 
tunate in your choice of acquaintance. I am unwilling to 
believe that the most tender of all relations is thus impeded 
in its effects by natural necessity." 

" Domestic discord," answered she, " is not inevitably 
and fatally necessary ; but yet it is not easily avoided. We 
seldom see that a whole family is virtuous : the good and 
the evil cannot well agree, and the evil can yet less agree 
with one another. Even the virtuous fall sometimes to 
variance, when their virtues are of different kinds and tend- 
ing to extremes. In general, those parents have most re- 
verence who most deserve it ; for he that lives well cannot 
be despised. 

" Many other evils infest private life. Some are the 
slaves of servants whom they have trusted with their 
affairs. Some are kept in continual anxiety by the caprice 
of rich relations, whom they cannot please and dare not 
offend. Some husbands are imperious, and some wives per- 
verse ; and, as it is always more easy to do evil than good, 
though the wisdom or virtue of one can very rarely make many 
happy, the folly or vice of one makes many miserable." 

" If such be the general effect of marriage," said the 
Prince, " I shall for the future think it dangerous to connect 
rny interest with that of another, lest I should be unhappy 
by my partner's fault." 


" I have met," said the Princess, " with many who live 
single for that reason ; but I never found that their pru- 
dence ought to raise envy. They dream away their time 
without friendship, without fondness, and are driven to rid 
themselves of the day, for which they have no use, by 
childish amusements or vicious delights. They act as beings 
under the constant sense of some known inferiority, that fills 
their minds with rancour and their tongues with censure. 
They are peevish at home and malevolent abroad ; and, as 
the outlaws of human nature, make it their business and 
their pleasure to disturb that society which debars them from 
its privileges. To live without feeling or exciting sympathy, 
to be fortunate without adding to the felicity of others, or 
afflicted without tasting the balm of pity, is a state more 
gloomy than solitude ; it is not retreat but exclusion from 
mankind. Marriage has many pains, but celibacy has no 

" What then is to be done?" said Rasselas. "The more 
we inquire the less we can resolve. Surely he is most 
likely to please himself that has no other inclination to 


Disquisition upon Greatness, 

THE conversation had a short pause. The Prince, having 
considered his sister's observation, told her that she had 
surveyed life with prejudice, and supposed misery where she 
did not find it. " Your narrative," says he, " throws yet a 
darker gloom upon the prospects of futurity. The predic- 
tions of Imlac were but faint sketches of the evils painted by 
Nekayah. I have been lately convinced that quiet is not 
the daughter of grandeur or of power ; that her presence is 
not to be bought by wealth nor enforced by conquest. It 
is evident that as any man acts in a wider compass, he must 
be more exposed to opposition from enmity, or miscarriage 
from chance. Whoever has many to please or to govern 


must use the ministry of many agents, some of wnom will be 
wicked and some ignorant ; by some he will be misled and 
by others betrayed. If he gratifies one, he will offend 
another ; those that are not favoured will think themselves 
injured ; and since favours can be conferred but upon few, 
the greater number will be always discontented." 

"The discontent/' said the Princess, "which is thus 
unreasonable, I hope that I shall always have spirit to 
despise and you power to repress." 

" Discontent," answered Rasselas, will not always be 
without reason under the most just and vigilant adminis- 
tration of public affairs. None, however attentive, can always 
discover that merit which indigence or faction may happen 
to obscure ; and none, however powerful, can always reward 
it. Yet, he that sees inferior desert advanced above him 
will naturally impute that preference to partiality or caprice, 
and indeed it can scarcely he hoped that any man, how- 
ever magnanimous by nature or exalted by condition, will 
be able to persist for ever in fixed and inexorable justice of 
distribution ; he will sometimes indulge his own affections, 
and sometimes those of his favourites ; he will permit some 
to please him who can never serve him ; he will discover in 
those whom he loves qualities which in reality they do not 
possess ; and to those from whom he receives pleasure he 
will in his turn endeavour to give it. Thus will recom- 
mendations sometimes prevail which were purchased by 
money, or by the more destructive bribery of flattery and 

" He that hath much to do will do something wrong, and 
of that wrong must suffer the consequences ; and if it were 
possible that he should always act rightly, yet when such 
numbers are to judge of his conduct, the bad will censure 
and obstruct him by malevolence, and the good sometimes 
by mistake. 

" The highest stations cannot therefore hope to be the 
abodes of happiness, which I would willingly believe to have 


fled from thrones and palaces to seats of humble privacy 
and placid obscurity. For what can hinder the satisfaction 
or intercept the expectations of him whose abilities are 
adequate to his employments, who sees with his own eyes 
the whole circuit of his influence, who chooses by his own 
knowledge all whom he trusts, and whom none are tempted 
to deceive by hope or fear ? Surely he has nothing to do 
but to love and to be loved, to be virtuous and to be happy." 
" Whether perfect happiness would be procured by perfect 
goodness," said Nekayah, " this world will never afford an 
opportunity of deciding. But this, at least, may be main- 
tained, that we do not always find visible happiness in pro- 
portion to visible virtue. All natural and almost all political 
evils are incident alike to the bad and good : they are 
confounded in the misery of a famine, and not much dis- 
tinguished in the fury of a faction ; they sink together in a 
tempest, and are driven together from their country by in- 
vaders. All that virtue can afford is quietness of conscience, 
and a steady prospect of a happier state : this may enable 
us to endure calamity with patience, but remember that 
patience must suppose pain." 


Rasselas and Nekayah continue their Conversation. 

" DEAR PRINCESS," said Rasselas, "you fall into the com- 
mon errors of exaggeratory declamation, by producing in a 
familiar disquisition examples of national calamities and 
scenes of extensive misery which are found in books rather 
than in the world, and which, as they are horrid, are ordained 
to be rare. Let us not imagine evils which we do not feel, 
nor injure life by misrepresentations. I cannot bear that 
querulous eloquence which threatens every city with a siege 
like that of Jerusalem, that makes famine attend on every 
flight of locusts, and suspends pestilence on the wing of 
every blast that issues from the south. 


" On necessary and" inevitable evils which overwhelm 
kingdoms at once, all disputation is vain : when they hap- 
pen they must be endured. But it is evident that these 
bursts of universal distress are more dreaded than felt : 
thousands and tens of thousands flourish in youth and wither 
in age, without the knowledge of any other than domestic 
evils, and share the same pleasures and vexations, whether 
their kings are mild or cruel, whether the armies of their 
country pursue their enemies or retreat before them. While 
courts are disturbed with intestine competitions, and ambas- 
sadors are negotiating in foreign countries, the smith still 
plies his anvil, and the husbandman drives his plough for- 
ward ; the necessaries of life are required and obtained, and 
the successive business of the season continues to make its 
wonted revolutions. 

" Let us cease to consider what perhaps may never 
happen, and what, when it shall happen, will laugh at 
human speculation. We will not endeavour to modify the 
motions of the elements or to fix the destiny of kingdoms. 
It is our business to consider what beings like us may 
perform, each labouring for his own happiness, by pro- 
moting within his circle, however narrow, the happiness of 

" Marriage is evidently the dictate of nature ; men and 
women were made to be the companions of each other ; and 
therefore I cannot be persuaded but that marriage is one of 
the means of happiness." 

" I know not," said the Princess, " whether marriage be 
more than one of the innumerable modes of human misery. 
When I see and reckon the various forms of connubial infe- 
licity, the unexpected causes of lasting discord, the diversi- 
ties of temper, the oppositions of opinion, the rude collisions 
of contrary desire where both are urged by violent impulses, 
the obstinate contest of disagreeing virtues where both are 
supported by consciousness of good intention, I am some- 
times disposed to think, with the severer casuists of most 


nations, that marriage is rather permitted than approved, 
and that none, but by the instigation of a passion too much 
indulged, entangle themselves with indissoluble compact." 

" You seem to forget," replied Rasselas, " that you have, 
even now, represented celibacy as less happy than marriage. 
Both conditions may be bad, but they cannot both be worse. 
Thus it happens, when wrong opinions are entertained, that 
they mutually destroy each other, and leave the mind open 
to truth." 

" I did not expect," answered the Princess, " to hear 
that imputed to falsehood which is the consequence only of 
frailty. To the mind, as to the eye, it is difficult to com- 
pare with exactness objects vast in their extent and various 
in their parts. When we see or conceive the whole at once, 
we readily note the discriminations and decide the prefer- 
ence ; but of two systems, of which neither can be surveyed 
by any human being in its full compass of magnitude and 
multiplicity of complication, where is the wonder that, judging 
of the whole by parts, I am alternately affected by one and 
the other as either presses on my memory or fancy ? We 
differ from ourselves just as we differ from each other when 
we see only part of the question, as in the multifarious rela- 
tions of politics and morality ; but when we perceive the 
whole at once, as in numerical computations, all agree in one 
judgment, and none ever varies in his opinion." 

" Let us not add," said the Prince, " to the other evils of 
life the bitterness of controversy, nor endeavour to vie with 
each other in subtilties of argument. We are employed in a 
search of which both are equally to enjoy the success or 
suffer by the miscarriage ; it is therefore fit that we assist 
each other. You surely conclude too hastily from the infe- 
licity of marriage against its institution ; will not the misery 
of life prove equally that life cannot be the gift of Heaven ? 
The world must be peopled by marriage or peopled with- 
out it." 

" How the world is tp be peopled," returned Nekayah, 


" is not my care, and need not be yours. I see no danger 
that the present generation should omit to leave successors 
behind them ; we are not now inquiring for the world, but 
for ourselves." 

The Debate on Marriage (continued). 

11 THE good of the whole," says Rasselas, " is the same with 
the good of all its parts. If marriage be best for mankind, 
it must be evidently best for individuals ; or a permanent 
and necessary duty must be the cause of evil, and some must 
be inevitably sacrificed to the convenience of others. In 
the estimate which you have made of the two states it 
appears that the incommodities of a single life are in a great 
measure necessary and certain, but those of the conjugal 
state accidental and avoidable. I cannot forbear to flatter 
myself that prudence and benevolence will make marriage 
happy. The general folly of mankind is the cause of general 
complaint. What can be expected but disappointment and 
repentance from a choice made in the immaturity of youth, 
in the ardour of desire, without judgment, without foresight, 
without inquiry after conformity of opinions, similarity of 
manners, rectitude of judgment, or purity of sentiment? 

" Such is the common process of marriage. A youth and 
maiden, meeting by chance or brought together by artifice, 
exchange glances, reciprocate civilities, go home and dream 
of one another. Having little to divert attention or diversify 
thought, they find themselves uneasy when they are apart, 
and therefore conclude that they shall be happy together. 
They marry, and discover what nothing but voluntary blind- 
ness before had concealed ; they wear out life in altercations, 
and charge nature with cruelty. 

" From those early marriages proceeds likewise the rivalry 
of parents and children : the son is eager to enjoy the world 
before the father is willing to forsake it, and there is hardly 


room at once for two generations. The daughter begins to 
bloom before the mother can be content to fade, and neither 
can forbear to wish for the absence of the other. 

" Surely all these evils may be avoided by that delibera- 
tion and delay which prudence prescribes to irrevocable 
choice. In the variety and jollity of youthful pleasures, life 
may be well enough supported without the help of a partner. 
Longer time will increase experience, and wider views will 
allow better opportunities of inquiry and selection : one ad- 
vantage at least will be certain, the parents will be visibly 
older than their children." 

" What reason cannot collect," said Nekayah, " and what 
experiment has not yet taught, can be known only from the 
report of others. I have been told that late marriages are 
not eminently happy. This is a question too important to 
be neglected ; and I have often proposed it to those whose 
accuracy of remark and comprehensiveness of knowledge 
made their suffrages worthy of regard. They have generally 
determined that it is dangerous for a man and woman to 
suspend their fate upon each other at a time when opinions 
are fixed and habits are established, when friendships have 
been contracted on both sides, when life has been planned 
into method, and the mind has long enjoyed the contempla- 
tion of its own prospects. 

"It is scarcely possible that two travelling through the 
world under the conduct of chance should ha\ e been both 
directed to the same path, and it will not often happen that 
either will quit the track which custom has made pleasing. 
When the desultory levity of youth has settled into regularity, 
it is soon succeeded by pride ashamed to yield, or obstinacy 
delighting to contend. And even though mutual esteem 
produces mutual desire to please, time itself, as it modifies 
unchangeably the external mien, determines likewise the 
direction of the passions and gives an inflexible rigidity to 
the manners. Long customs are not easily broken ; he that 
attempts to change the course of his own life very often 



labours in vain, and how shall we do that for others which 
we are seldom able to do for ourselves ? " 

" But surely," interposed the Prince, " you suppose the 
chief motive of choice forgotten or neglected. Whenever I 
shall seek a wife, it shall be my first question whether she 
be willing to be led by reason ? " 

"Thus it is," said Nekayah, "that philosophers are 
deceived. There are a thousand familiar disputes which 
reason never can decide ; questions that elude investiga- 
tion, and make logic ridiculous ; cases where something must 
be done, and where little can be said. Consider the state 
of mankind, and inquire how few can be supposed to act 
upon any occasions, whether small or great, with all the 
reasons of action present to their minds. Wretched would 
be the pair, above all names of wretchedness, who 
doomed to adjust by reason, every morning, all the minute 
details of a domestic day. 

"Those who marry at an advanced age will probably 
escape the encroachments of their children, but in the 
diminution of this advantage they will be likely to leave 
them, ignorant and helpless, to a guardian's mercy ; or if that 
should not happen, they must at least go out of the world 
before they see those whom they love best either wise or 

" From their children, if they have less to fear, they have 
less also to hope ; and they lose without equivalent the joys 
of early love, and the convenience of uniting with manners 
pliant and minds susceptible of new impressions, which 
might wear away their dissimilitudes by long cohabitation, as 
soft bodies by continual attrition conform their surfaces to 
each other. 

" I believe it will be found that those who marry late are 
best pleased with their children, and those who marry early 
with their partners." 

i( The union of these two affections," said Rasselas, 
" would produce all that could be wished. Perhaps there is 


a time when marriage might unite them a time neither too 
early for the father nor too late for the husband." 

" Every hour," answered the Princess, " confirms my pre- 
judice in favour of the position so often uttered by the mouth 
of Imlac, that ' Nature sets her gifts on the right hand and 
on the left.' Those conditions which flatter hope and attract 
desire are so constituted that as we approach one we recede 
from another. There are goods so opposed that we cannot 
seize both, but by too much prudence may pass between 
them at too great a distance to reach either. This is often 
the fate of long consideration : he does nothing who 
endeavours to do more than is allowed to humanity. Flatter 
not yourself with contrarieties of pleasure. Of the blessings 
set before you make your choice, and be content. No man 
can taste the fruits of autumn while he is delighting his 
scent with the flowers of the spring ; no man can at the same 
time fill his cup from the source and from the mouth of the 


Imlac enters, and changes the Conversation. 

HERE Imlac entered, and interrupted them. "Imlac," 
said Rasselas, " I have been taking from the Princess the 
dismal history of private life, and am almost discouraged 
from further search." 

" It seems to me," said Imlac, " that while you are making 
the choice of life you neglect to live. You wander about 
a single city, which, however large and diversified, can now 
afford few novelties, and forget that you are in a country 
famous among the earliest monarchies for the power and 
wisdom of its inhabitants ; a country where the sciences 
first dawned that illuminate the world, and beyond which 
the arts cannot be traced of civil society or domestic life. 

" The old Egyptians have left behind them monuments 
of industry and power before which all European magnificence 
is confessed to fade away. The ruins of their architecture 


are the schools of modern builders, and from the wonders 
which time has spared we may conjecture, though uncer- 
tainly, what it has destroyed." 

" My curiosity," said Rasselas, " does not very strongly 
lead me to survey piles of stone or mounds of earth. My 
business is with man. I came hither, not to measure frag- 
ments of temples or trace choked aqueducts, but to look 
upon the various scenes of the present world." 

" The things that are now before us," said the Princess, 
require attention, and deserve it What have I to do with 
the heroes or the monuments of ancient times with times 
which can never return, and heroes whose form of life was 
different from all that the present condition of mankind 
requires or allows ? " 

" To know anything," returned the poet, " we must know 
its effects ; to see men, we must see their works, that we 
may learn what reason has dictated or passion has excited, 
and find what are the most powerful motives of action. To 
judge rightly of the present, we must oppose it to the past ; 
for all judgment is comparative, and of the future nothing 
can be known. The truth is, that no mind is much employed 
upon the present : recollection and anticipation fill up almost 
all our moments. Our passions are joy and grief, love and 
hatred, hope and fear. Of joy and grief the past is the 
object; and the future, of hope and fear : even love and 
hatred respect the past, for the cause must have been before 
the effect 

" The present state of things is the consequence of the 
former ; and it is natural to inquire what were the sources 
of the good that we enjoy, or the evils that we suffer. If 
we act only for ourselves, to neglect the study of history is 
not prudent. If we are entrusted with the care of others, it 
is not just. Ignorance, when it is voluntary, is criminal ; 
and he may properly be charged with evil who refused to 
learn how he might prevent it. 

" There is no part of history so generally useful as that 


which relates to the progress of the human mind, the gradual 
improvement of reason, the successive advances of science, 
the vicissitudes of learning and ignorance, which are the 
light and darkness of thinking beings, the extinction and 
resuscitation of arts, and the revolutions of the intellectual 
world. If accounts of battles and invasions are peculiarly 
the business of princes, the useful or elegant arts are not 
to be neglected ; those who have kingdoms to govern have 
understandings to cultivate. 

" Example is always more efficacious than precept. A 
soldier is formed in war, and a painter must copy pictures. 
In this, contemplative life has the advantage. Great actions 
are seldom seen, but the labours of art are always at hand 
for those who desire to -know what art has been able to 

"When the eye or the imagination is struck with any 
uncommon work, the next transition of an active mind is to 
the means by which it was performed. Here begins the 
true use of such contemplation. We enlarge our compre- 
hension by new ideas, and perhaps recover some art lost to 
mankind, or learn what is less perfectly known in our 
own country. At least we compare our own with former 
times, and either rejoice at our improvements, or, what is 
the first motion towards good, discover our defects." 

" I am willing," said the Prince, " to see all that can 
deserve my search." " And I," said the Princess, " shall 
rejoice to learn something of the manners of antiquity." 

11 The most pompous monument of Egyptian greatness, 
and one of the most bulky works of manual industry," said 
Imlac, " are the Pyramids : fabrics raised before the time of 
history, and of which the earliest narratives afford us only 
uncertain traditions. Of these the greatest is still standing, 
very little injured by time." 

" Let us visit them, to-morrow," said Nekayah. " I have 
often heard of the Pyramids, and shall not rest till I have 
seen them, within and without, with my own eyes." 



They visit the Pyramids. 

THE resolution being thus taken, they set out the next day. 
Thc'y laid tents upon their camels, being resolved to stay 
among the Pyramids till their curiosity was fully satisfied. 
They travelled gently, turned aside to everything remarkable, 
stopped from time to time and conversed with the inhabi- 
tants, and observed the various appearances of towns ruined 
and inhabited, of wild and cultivated nature. 

When they came to the Great Pyramid they were astonished 
at the extent of the base and the height of the top. Imlac 
explained to them the principles upon which the pyramidal 
form was chosen for a fabric intended to co-extend its dura- 
tion with that of the world : he showed that its gradual 
diminution gave it such stability as defeated all the common 
attacks of the elements, and could scarcely be overthrown by 
earthquakes themselves,the least resistible of natural violence. 
A concussion that should shatter the pyramid would threaten 
the dissolution of the continent. 

They measured all its dimensions, and pitched their tents 
at its foot. Next day they prepared to enter its interior 
apartments, and having hired the common guides, climbed 
up to the first passage ; when the favourite of the Princess, 
looking into the cavity, stepped back and trembled. 
" Pekuah," said the Princess, " of what art thou afraid ? " 

" Of the narrow entrance," answered the lady, " and of the 
dreadful gloom. I dare not enter a place which must surely 
be inhabited by unquiet souls. The original possessors of 
these dreadful vaults will start up before us, and perhaps 
shut us in for ever." She spoke, and threw her arms round 
the neck of her mistress. 

" If all your fear be of apparitions," said the Prince, 
" I will promise you safety. There is no danger from the 
dead : he that is once buried will be seen no more." 

"That the dead are seen no more," said Imlac, "I will 


not undertake to maintain against the concurrent and unvaried 
testimony of all ages and of all nations. There is no people, 
rude or learned, among whom apparitions of the dead are 
not related and believed. This opinion, which perhaps 
prevails as far as human nature is diffused, could become 
universal only by its truth : those that never heard of one 
another would not have agreed in a tale which nothing but 
experience can make credible. That it is doubted by single 
cavillers can very little weaken the general evidence, and 
some who deny it with their tongues confess it by their fears. 

" Yet I do not mean to add new terrors to those which 
have already seized upon Pekuah. There can be no reason 
why spectres should haunt the Pyramid more than other 
places, or why they should have power or will to hurt 
innocence and purity. Our entrance is no violation of their 
privileges : we can take nothing from them ; how, then, can 
we offend them? " 

" My dear Pekuah," said the Princess, " I will always go 
before you, and Imlac shall follow you. Remember that you 
are the companion of the Princess of Abyssinia." 

" If the Princess is pleased that her servant should die," 
returned the lady, " let her command some death less 
dreadful than enclosure in this horrid cavern. You know I 
dare not disobey you I must go if you command me ; but 
if I once enter, I never shall come back." 

The Princess saw thai her fear was too strong for ex- 
postulation or reproof, and, embracing her, told her that she 
should stay in the tent till their return. Pekuah was not 
yet satisfied, but entreated the Princess not to pursue so 
dreadful a purpose as that of entering the recesses of the 
Pyramids. " Though I cannot teach courage," said Ne- 
kayah, " I must not learn cowardice, nor leave at last undone 
what I came hither only to do." 




They enter the Pyramid. 

PEKUAH descended to the tents, and the rest entered the 
Pyramid. They passed through the galleries, surveyed the 
vaults of marble, and examined the chest in which the body 
of the founder is supposed to have been deposited. They 
then sat down in one of the most spacious chambers to rest 
awhile, before they attempted to return. 

" We have now," said Imlac, " gratified our minds with an 
exact view of the greatest work of man, except the wall of 

" Of the wall it is very easy to assign the motive. It 
secured a wealthy and timorous nation from the incursions 
of barbarians, whose unskilfulness in the arts made it easiel 
for them to supply their wants by rapine than by industry) 
and who from time to time poured in upon the inhabitants 
of peaceful commerce as vultures descend upon domestic 
fowl. Their celerity and fierceness made the wall necessary, 
and their ignorance made it efficacious. 

"But for the Pyramids no reason has ever been given 
adequate to the cost and labour of the work. The narrow- 
ness of the chambers proves that it could afford no retreat 
from enemies, and treasures might have been reposited at 
far less expense with equal security. It seems to have been 
erected only in compliance with that hunger of imagination 
which preys incessantly upon life, and must be always 
appeased by some employment. Those who have already 
all that they can enjoy must enlarge their desires. He that 
has built for use till use is supplied, must begin to build for 
vanity, and extend his plan to the utmost power of human 
performance that he may not be soon reduced to form 
another wish. 

" I consider this mighty structure as a monument of the 
insufficiency of human enjoyments. A king whose power 
i unlimited, and whose treasures surmount all real and 


imaginary wants, is compelled to solace, by the erection of 
a pyramid, the satiety of dominion and tastelessness of 
pleasures, and to amuse the tediousness of declining life by 
seeing thousands labouring without end, and one stone, for 
no purpose, laid upon another. Whoever thou art that, not 
content with a moderate condition, imaginest happiness in 
royal magnificence, and dreamest that command or riches 
can feed the appetite of novelty with perpetual gratifications, 
survey the Pyramids, and confess thy folly ! " 


77ie Princess meets -with an iinexpected Misfortune. 

THEY rose up, and returned through the cavity at which 
they had entered; and the Princess prepared for her 
favourite a long narrative of dark labyrinths and costly 
rooms, and of the different impressions which the varieties 
of the way had made upon her. But when they came to 
their train, they found every one silent and dejected: the 
men discovered shame and fear in their countenances, and 
the women were weeping in their tents. 

What had happened they did not try to conjecture, but 
immediately inquired. "You had scarcely entered into the 
Pyramid," said one of the attendants, " when a troop of 
Arabs rushed upon us : we were too few to resist them, and 
too slow to escape. They were about to search the tents, 
set us on our camels, and drive us along before them, when 
the approach of some Turkish horsemen put them to flight : 
but they seized the Lady Pekuah with her two maids, and 
carried them away : the Turks are now pursuing them by 
our instigation, but I fear they will not be able to overtake 

The Princess was overpowered with surprise and grief. 
Rasselas, in the first heat of his resentment, ordered his 
servants to follow him, and prepared to pursue the robbers 
with his sabre in his hand. " Sir," said Imlac, " what can 


you hope from violence or valour ? The Arabs are mounted 
on horses trained to battle and retreat ; we have only beasts 
of burden. By leaving our present station we may lose the 
Princess, but cannot hope to regain Pekuah." 

In a short time the Turks returned, having not been able 
to reach the enemy. The Princess burst out into new 
lamentations, and Rasselas could scarcely forbear to reproach 
them with cowardice ; but Imlac was of opinion that the 
escape of the Arabs was no addition to their misfortune, for 
perhaps they would have killed their captives rather than 
have resigned them. 


They return to Cairo "without Pekuak, 

THERE was nothing to be hoped from longer stay. They 
returned to Cairo, repenting of their curiosity, censuring the 
negligence of the government, lamenting their own rashness, 
which had neglected to procure a guard, imagining many 
expedients by which the loss of Pekuah might have been 
prevented, and resolving to do something for her recovery, 
though none could find anything proper to be done. 

Nekayah retired to her chamber, where her women at- 
tempted to comfort her by telling her that all had their 
troubles, and that Lady Pekuah had enjoyed much happiness 
in the world for a long time, and might reasonably expect a 
change of fortune. They hoped that some good would 
befall her wheresoever she was, and that their mistress would 
find another friend who might supply her place. 

The Princess made them no answer ; and they continued 
the form of condolence, not much grieved in their hearts 
that the favourite Avas lost. 

Next day the Prince presented to the Bassa a memorial 
of the wrong which he had suffered, and a petition for 
redress. The Bassa threatened to punish the robbers, but 
did not attempt to catch them; nor indeed could any 


account or description be given by which he might direct 
the pursuit. 

It soon appeared that nothing would be done by authority. 
Governors being accustomed to hear of more crimes than 
they can punish, and more wrongs than they can redress, 
set themselves at ease by indiscriminate negligence, and 
presently forget the request when they lose sight of the 

Imlac then endeavoured to gain some intelligence by 
private agents. He found many who pretended to an exact 
knowledge of all the haunts of the Arabs, and to regular 
correspondence with their chiefs, and who readily undertook 
the recovery of Pekuah. Of these, some were furnished 
with money for their journey, and came back no more; 
some were liberally paid for accounts which a few days dis- 
covered to be false. But the Princess would not suffer any 
means, however improbable, to be left untried. While she 
was doing something, she kept her hope alive. As one 
expedient failed, another was suggested ; when one mes- 
senger returned unsuccessful, another was despatched to a 
different quarter. 

Two months had now passed, and of Pekuah nothing had 
been heard ; the hopes which they had endeavoured to raise 
in each other grew more languid ; and the Princess, when 
she saw nothing more to be tried, sunk down inconsolable 
in hopeless dejection. A thousand times she reproached 
herself with the easy compliance by which she permitted her 
favourite to stay behind her. " Had not my fondness," said 
she, " lessened my authority, Pekuah had not dared to talk 
of her terrors. She ought to have feared me more than 
spectres. A severe look would have overpowered her ; a 
peremptory command would have compelled obedience. 
Why did foolish indulgence prevail upon me ? Why did I 
not speak, and refuse to hear ? " 

" Great Princess," said Imlac, " do not reproach yourself 
for your virtue, or consider that as blameable by which evil 



has accidentally been caused. Your tenderness for the 
timidity of Pekuah was generous and kind. When we act 
according to our duty, we commit the events to Him by 
whose laws our actions are governed, and who will suffer 
none to be finally punished for obedience. When, in prospect 
of some good, whether natural or moral, we break the rules 
prescribed us, we withdraw from the direction of superior 
wisdom, and take all consequences upon ourselves. Man 
cannot so far know the connection of causes and events as 
that he may venture to do wrong in order to do right. When 
we pursue our end by lawful means, we may always console 
our miscarriage by the hope of future recompense. When 
we consult only our own policy, and attempt to find a nearer 
way to good by overleaping the settled boundaries of right 
and wrong, we cannot be happy even by success, because 
we cannot escape the consciousness of our fault ; but if we 
miscarry, the disappointment is irremediably embittered. 
How comfortless is the sorrow of him who feels at once the 
pangs of guilt and the vexation of calamity which guilt has 
brought upon him. 

" Consider, Princess, what would have been your condi- 
tion if the Lady Pekuah had entreated to accompany you, 
and, being compelled to stay in the tents, had been carried 
away j or how would you have borne the thought if you 
had forced her into the Pyramid, and she had died before 
you in agonies of terror ? " 

" Had either happened," said Nekayah, " I could not 
have endured life till now ; I should have been tortured to 
madness by the remembrance of such cruelty, or must have 
pined away in abhorrence of myself." 

"This, at least," said Imlac, "is the present reward of 
virtuous conduct, that no unlucky consequence can oblige 
us to repent it." 



77ie Princess languishes for want of Pekttah. 

NEKAYAH, being thus reconciled to herself, found that no 
evil is insupportable but that which is accompanied with 
consciousness of wrong. She was from that time delivered 
from the violence of tempestuous sorrow, and sunk into 
silent pensiveness and gloomy tranquillity. She sat from 
morning to evening recollecting all that had been done or 
said by her Pekuah, treasured up with care every trifle on 
which Pekuah had set an accidental value, and which might 
recall to mind any little incident or careless conversation. 
The sentiments of her whom she now expected to see no 
more were treasured in her memory as rules of life, and she 
deliberated to no other end than to conjecture on any 
occasion what would have been the opinion and counsel 
of Pekuah. 

The women by whom she was attended knew nothing of 
her real condition, and therefore she could not talk to them 
but with caution and reserve. She began to remit her 
curiosity, having no great desire to collect notions which 
she had no convenience of uttering. Rasselas endeavoured 
first to comfort and afterwards to divert her; he hired 
musicians, to whom she seemed to listen, but did not hear 
them ; and procured masters to instruct her in various arts, 
whose lectures, when they visited her again, were again to 
be repeated. She had lost her taste of pleasure and her 
ambition of excellence ; and her mind, though forced into 
short excursions, always recurred to the image of her friend. 

Imlac was every morning earnestly enjoined to renew his 
inquiries, and was asked every night whether he had yet 
heard of Pekuah ; till, not being able to return the Princess 
the answer that she desired, he was less and less willing to 
come into her presence. She observed his backwardness, 
and commanded him to attend her. " You are not," said 
she, " to confound impatience with resentment, or to sup- 


pose that I charge you with negligence because I repine at 
your unsuccessfulness. I do not much wonder at your 
absence. I know that the unhappy are never pleasing, and 
that all naturally avoid the contagion of misery. To hear 
complaints is wearisome alike to the wretched and the happy ; 
for who would cloud by adventitious grief the short gleams of 
gaiety which life allows us ? or who that is struggling under 
his own evils will add to them the miseries of another ? 

" The time is at hand when none shall be disturbed any 
longer by the sighs of Nekayah : my search after happiness 
is now at an end. I am resolved to retire from the world, 
with all its flatteries and deceits, and will hide myself in 
solitude, without any other care than to compose my 
thoughts and regulate my hours by a constant succession of 
innocent occupations, till, with a mind purified from earthly 
desires, I shall enter into that state to which all are hasten- 
ing, and in which I hope again to enjoy the friendship of 

" Do not entangle your mind," said Imlac, by irrevocable 
determinations, nor increase the burden of life by a voluntary 
accumulation of misery. The weariness of retirement will 
continue to increase when the loss of Pekuah is forgot. That 
you have been deprived of one pleasure is no very good 
reason for rejection of the rest." 

" Since Pekuah was taken from me," said the Princess, 
"I have no pleasure to reject or to retain. She that has no 
one to love or trust has little to hope. She wants the radical 
principle of happiness. We may perhaps allow that what 
satisfaction this world can afford must arise from the con- 
junction of wealth, knowledge, and goodness. Wealth is 
nothing but as it is bestowed, and knowledge nothing but 
as it is communicated. They must therefore be imparted 
to others, and to whom could I now delight to impart 
them ? Goodness affords the only comfort which can be 
enjoyed without a partner, and goodness may be practised 
in retirement. 


" How far solitude may admit goodness Or advance it, I 
shall not/' replied Imlac, "dispute at present. Remember 
the confession of the pious hermit. You will wish to return 
into the world when the image of your companion has left 
your thoughts." " That time." said Nekayah, " will never 
come. The generous frankness, the modest obsequiousness, 
and the faithful secrecy of my dear Pekuah will always be 
more missed as I shall live longer to see vice and folly." 

" The state of a mind oppressed with a sudden calamity," 
said Imlac, " is like that of the fabulous inhabitants of the 
new-created earth, who, when the first night came upon 
them, supposed that day would never return. When the 
clouds of sorrow gather over us, we see nothing beyond 
them, nor can imagine how they will be dispelled ; yet a 
new day succeeded to the night, and sorrow is never long 
without a dawn of ease. But they who restrain themselves 
from receiving comfort do as the savages would have done 
had they put out their eyes when it was dark. Our minds, 
like our bodies, are in continual flux ; something is hourly 
lost, and something acquired. To lose much at once is 
inconvenient to either, but while the vital power remains 
uninjured, nature will find the means of reparation. Distance 
has the same effect on the mind as on the eye : and while 
we glide along the stream of time, whatever we leave behind 
us is always lessening, and that which we approach increasing 
in magnitude. Do not suffer life to stagnate : it will grow 
muddy for want of motion ; commit yourself again to the 
current of the world ; Pekuah will vanish by degrees ; you 
will meet in your way some other favourite, or learn to diffuse 
yourself in general conversation." 

"At least," said the Prince, "do not despair before all 
remedies have been tried. The inquiry after the unfortunate 
lady is still continued, and shall be carried on with yet 
greater diligence, on condition that you will promise to 
wait a year for the event, without any unalterable resolution." 

Nekayah thought this a reasonable demand, and made the 


promise to her brother, who had been obliged by Imlac to 
require it. Imlac had, indeed, no great hope of regaining 
Pekuah ; but he supposed that if he could secure the interval 
of a year, the Princess would be then in no danger of a 


Ptkiiak is still remembered. The Progress of Sorrow. 

N ERA YAH, seeing that nothing was omitted for the recovery 
of her favourite, and having by her promise set her intention 
of retirement at a distance, began imperceptibly to return to 
common cares and common pleasures. She rejoiced without 
her own consent at the suspension of her sorrows, and 
sometimes caught herself with indignation in the act of 
turning away her mind from the remembrance of her whom 
yet she resolved never to forget. 

She then appointed a certain hour of the day for medita- 
tion on the merits and fondness of Pekuah, and for some 
weeks retired constantly at the time fixed, and returned with 
her eyes swollen and her countenance clouded. By degrees 
she grew less scrupulous, and suffered any important and 
pressing avocation to delay the tribute of daily tears. She 
then yielded to less occasions, and sometimes forgot what 
she was indeed afraid to remember, and at last wholly 
released herself from the duty of periodical affliction. 

Her real love of Pekuah was not yet diminished. A 
thousand occurrences brought her back to memory, and a 
thousand wants, which nothing but the confidence of friend- 
ship can supply, made her frequently regretted. She there- 
fore solicited Imlac never to desist from inquiry, and to 
leave no art of intelligence untried, that at least she might 
have the comfort of knowing that she did not suffer by 
negligence or sluggishness. " Yet what," said she, " is to be 
expected from our pursuit of happiness, when we find the 
state of life to be such that happiness itself is the cause of 
misery ? Why should we endeavour to attain that of which 

254 R ASS EL AS. 

the possession cannot be secured? I shall henceforward 
fear to yield my heart to excellence, however bright, or to 
fondness, however tender, lest I should lose again what I 
have lost in Pekuah." 


The Princess hears News of Pekuah. 

IN seven months one of the messengers who had been 
sent away upon the day when the promise was drawn from 
the Princess, returned, after many unsuccessful rambles, from 
the borders of Nubia, with an account that Pekuah was in 
the hands of an Arab chief, who possessed a castle or fortress 
on the extremity of Egypt. The Arab, whose revenue was 
plunder, was willing to restore her, with her two attendants, 
for two hundred ounces of gold. 

The price was no subject of debate. The Princess was 
in ecstacies when she heard that her favourite was alive, and 
might so cheaply be ransomed. She could not think of 
delaying for a moment Pekuah's happiness or her own, but 
entreated her brother to send back the messenger with the 
sum required. Imlac being consulted, was not very con- 
fident of the veracity of the relater, and was still more 
doubtful of the Arab's faith, who might, if he were too 
liberally trusted, detain at once the money and the captives. 
He thought it dangerous to put themselves in the power of 
the Arab by going into his district ; and could not expect 
that the rover would so much expose himself as to come 
into the lower country, where he might be seized by the 
forces of the Bassa. 

It is difficult to negotiate where neither will trust. But 
Imlac, after some deliberation, directed the messenger to 
propose that Pekuah should be conducted by ten horsemen 
to the monastery of St. Anthony, which is situated in the 
deserts of Upper Egypt, where she should be met by the 
same number, and her ransom should be paid. 


That no time might be lost, as they expected that the 
proposal would not be refused, they immediately began 
their journey to the monastery ; and when they arrived, 
Imlac went forward with the former messenger to the Arab's 
fortress. Rasselas was desirous to go with them; but 
neither his sister nor Imlac would consent. The Arab, 
according to the custom of his nation, observed the laws of 
hospitality with great exactness to those who put themselves 
into his power, and in a few days brought Pekuah with her 
maids, by easy journeys, to the place appointed, where, 
receiving the stipulated price, he restored her, with great 
respect, to liberty and her friends, and undertook to conduct 
them back towards Cairo beyond all danger of robbery or 

The Princess and her favourite embraced each other with 
transport too violent to be expressed, and went out together 
to pour the tears of tenderness in secret, and exchange pro- 
fessions of kindness and gratitude. After a few hours they 
returned into the refectory of the convent, where, in the 
presence of the prior and his brethren, the Prince required 
of Pekuah the history of her adventures. 


The Adventures of the Lady Pekiiah. 

"Ax what time and in what manner I was forced away," 
said Pekuah, "your servants have told you. The sudden- 
ness of the event struck me with surprise, and I was at first 
rather stupefied than agitated with any passion of either fear 
or sorrow. My confusion was increased by the speed and 
tumult of our flight, while we were followed by the Turks, 
who, as it seemed, soon despaired to overtake us, or were 
afraid of those whom they made a show of menacing. 

" When the Arabs saw themselves out of danger, they 
slackened their course ; and as I was less harassed by ex- 
ternal violence, I began to feel more uneasiness in my mind. 


After some time, we stopped near a spring shaded with 
trees, in a pleasant meadow, where we were set upon the 
ground, and offered such refreshments as our masters were 
partaking. I was suffered to sit with my maids apart from 
the rest, and none attempted to comfort or insult us. Here 
I first began to feel the full weight of my misery. The girls 
sat weeping in silence, and from time to time looked on me 
for succour. I knew not to what condition we were doomed, 
nor could conjecture where would be the place of our cap- 
tivity, or whence to draw any hope of deliverance. I was 
in the hands of robbers and savages, and had no reason to 
suppose that their pity was more than their justice, or that 
they would forbear the gratification of any ardour of desire 
or caprice of cruelty. I, however, kissed my maids, and 
endeavoured to pacify them by remarking that we were yet 
treated with decency, and that since we were now carried 
beyond pursuit, there was no danger of violence to our lives. 

" When we were to be set again on horseback, my maids 
clung round me, and refused to be parted ; but I commanded 
them not to irritate those who had us in their power. We 
travelled the remaining part of the day through an unfre- 
quented and pathless country, and came by moonlight to the 
side of a hill, where the rest of the troop was stationed. 
Their tents were pitched and their fires kindled, and our chief 
was welcomed as a man much beloved by his dependants. 

"We were received into a large tent, where we found 
women who had attended their husbands in the expedition. 
They set before us the supper which they had provided, and 
I ate it rather to encourage my maids than to comply with 
any appetite of my own. When the meat was taken away, 
they spread the carpets for repose. I was weary, and hoped 
to find in sleep that remission of distress which nature seldom 
denies. Ordering myself, therefore, to be undressed, I 
observed that the women looked very earnestly upon me, 
not expecting, I suppose, to see me so submissively attended. 
When my upper vest was taken off, they were apparently 

k ASS E LAS. 257 

Struck with the splendour of my clothes, and one of them 
timorously laid her hand upon the embroidery. She then 
went out, and in a short time came back with another 
woman, who seemed to be of higher rank and greater 
authority. She did, at her entrance, the usual act of 
reverence, and taking me by the hand placed me in a 
smaller tent, spread with finer carpets, where I spent the 
night quietly with my maids. 

" In the morning, as I was sitting on the grass, the chief 
of the troop came towards me. I rose up to receive him, 
and he bowed with great respect. 'Illustrious lady,' said 
he, ' my fortune is better than I had presumed to hope : I 
am told by my women that I have a princess in my camp.' 
' Sir,' answered I, ' your women have deceived themselves 
and you ; I am not a princess, but an unhappy stranger who 
intended soon to have left this country, in which I am now 
to be imprisoned for ever.' ' Whoever or whencesoever you 
are,' returned the Arab, ' your dress and that of your servants 
show your rank to be high and your wealth to be great. 
Why should you, who can so easily procure your ransom, think 
yourself in danger of perpetual captivity ? The purpose of 
my incursions is to increase my riches, or, more properly, to 
gather tribute. The sons of Ishmael are the natural and 
hereditary lords of this part of the continent, which is usurped 
by late invaders and low-born tyrants, from whom we are 
compelled to take by the sword what is denied to justice. 
The violence of war admits no distinction : the lance that is 
lifted at guilt and power will sometimes fall on innocence and 

" ' How little,' said I, ' did I expect that yesterday it should 
have fallen upon me.' 

" ' Misfortunes,' answered the Arab, ' should always be 
expected. If the eye of hostility could learn reverence or 
pity, excellence like yours had been exempt from injury. 
But the angels of affliction spread their toils alike' for the 

virtuous and the wicked, for the mighty and the mean. Do 



not be disconsolate ; I am not one of the lawless and cruel 
rovers of the desert ; I know the rules of civil life ; I will 
fix your ransom, give a passport to your messenger, and 
perform my stipulation with nice punctuality.' 

"You will easily believe that I was pleased with his 
courtesy, and finding that his predominant passion was 
desire for money, I began now to think my danger less, for 
I knew that no sum would be thought too great for the release 
of Pekuah. I told him that he should have no reason to 
charge me with ingratitude if I was used with kindness, and 
that any ransom which could be expected for a maid of 
common rank would be paid, but that he must not persist to 
rate me as a princess. He said he would consider what he 
should demand, and then, smiling, bowed and retired. 

" Soon after the women came about me, each contending 
to be more officious than the other, and my maids themselves 
were served with reverence. We travelled onward by short 
journeys. On the fourth day the chief told me that my 
ransom must be two hundred ounces of gold, which I not 
only promised him, but told him that I would add fifty more 
if I and my maids were honourably treated. 

" I never knew the power of gold before. From that time 
I was the leader of the troop. The march of every day was 
longer or shorter as I commanded, and the tents were pitched 
where I chose to rest. We now had camels and other 
conveniences for travel ; my own women were always at my 
side, and I amused myself with observing the manners of the 
vagrant nations, and with viewing remains of ancient edifices 
with which these deserted countries appear to have been in 
some distant age lavishly embellished. 

" The chief of the band was a man far from illiterate : he 
was able to travel by the stars or the compass, and had 
marked in his erratic expeditions such places as are most 
worthy the notice of a passenger. He observed to me that 
buildings are always best preserved in places little frequented 
and difficult of access ; for when once a country declines 

R ASS EL AS. 259 

from its primitive splendour, the more inhabitants are left, 
the quicker ruin will be made. Walls supply stones more 
easily than quarries : and palaces and temples will be 
demolished to make stables of granite and cottages of 
porphyry.' " 


The Adventures of Pekuah (continued). 

'' WE wandered about in this manner for some weeks, either, 
as our chief pretended, for my gratification, or, as I rather 
suspected, for some convenience of his own. I endeavoured 
to appear contented where sullenness and resentment would 
have been of no use, and that endeavour conduced much to 
the calmness of my mind ; but my heart was always with 
Nekayah, and the troubles of the night much overbalanced 
the amusements of the day. My women, who threw all their 
cares upon their mistress, set their minds at ease from the 
time when they saw me treated with respect, and gave them- 
selves up to the incidental alleviations of our fatigue without 
solicitude or sorrow. I was pleased with their pleasure, and 
animated with their confidence. My condition had lost 
much of its terror, since I found that the Arab ranged the 
country merely to get riches. Avarice is a uniform and 
tractable vice : other intellectual distempers are different in 
different constitutions of mind ; that which soothes the pride 
of one will offend the pride of another ; but to the favour of 
the covetous there is a ready way bring money, and nothing 
is denied. 

" At last we came to the dwelling of our chief; a strong 
and spacious house, built with stone in an island of the 
Nile, which lies, as I was told, under the tropic. ' Lady, 
said the Arab, ' you shall rest after your journey a few weeks 
in this place, where you are to consider yourself as sovereign. 
My occupation is war : I have therefore chosen this obscure 
residence, from which I can issue unexpected, and to which 
I can retire unpursued. You may now repose in security : 


here are few pleasures, but here is no danger.' He then led 
me into the inner apartments, and seating me on the richest 
couch, bowed to the ground. 

" His women, who considered me as a rival, looked on 
me with malignity ; but being soon informed that I was a 
great lady detained only for my ransom, they began to vie 
with each other in obsequiousness and reverence. 

" Being again comforted with new assurances of speedy 
liberty, I was for some days diverted from impatience by 
the novelty of the place. The turrets overlooked the country 
to a great distance, and afforded a view of many windings of 
the stream. In the day I wandered from one place to 
another, as the course of the sun varied the splendour of 
the prospect, and saw many things which I had never seen 
before. The crocodiles and river horses are common in 
this unpeopled region ; and I often looked upon them with 
terror, though I knew they could not hurt me. For some 
time I expected to see mermaids and tritons, which, as 
Imlac has told me, the European travellers have stationed 
in the Nile ; but no such beings ever appeared, and the 
Arab, when I inquired after them, laughed at my credulity. 

" At night the Arab always attended me to a tower set 
apart for celestial observations, where , he endeavoured to 
teach me the names and courses of the stars. I had no 
great inclination to this study ; but an appearance of atten- 
tion was necessary to please my instructor, who valued 
himself for his skill, and in a little while I found some 
employment requisite to beguile the tediousness of time, 
which was to be passed always amidst the same objects. I 
was weary of looking in the morning on things from which 
I had turned away weary in the evening : I therefore was 
at last willing to observe the stars rather than do nothing, 
but could not always compose my thoughts, and was very 
often thinking on Nekayah when others imagined me con- 
templating the sky. Soon after the Arab went upon another 
expedition, and then my only pleasure was to talk with my 


maids about the accident by which we were carried away, 
and the happiness we should all enjoy at the end of our 

" There were women in your Arab's fortress," said the 
Princess ; " why did you not make them your companions, 
enjoy their conversation, and partake their diversions ? In 
a place where they found business or amusement, why 
should you alone sit corroded with idle melancholy ? or 
why could not you bear for a few months that condition to 
which they were condemned for life ? " 

" The diversions of the women," answered Pekuah, " were 
only childish play, by which the mind, accustomed to 
stronger operations, could not be kept busy. I could do 
all which they delighted in doing by powers merely sensi- 
tive, while my intellectual faculties were flown to Cairo. 
They ran from room to room, as a bird hops from wire to 
wire in his cage. They danced for the sake of motion, as 
lambs frisk in a meadow. One sometimes pretended to be 
hurt that the rest might be alarmed, or hid herself that 
another might seek her. Part of their time passed in 
watching the progress of light bodies that floated on the 
river, and part in marking the various forms into which 
clouds broke in the sky. 

"Their business was only needlework, in which I and 
my maids sometimes helped them ; but you know that the 
mind will easily straggle from the fingers, nor will you 
suspect that captivity and absence from Nekayah could 
receive solace from silken flowers. 

" Nor v/as much satisfaction to be hoped from their con- 
versation : for of what could they be expected to talk ? 
They had seen nothing, for they had lived from early youth 
in that narrow spot : of what they had not seen they could 
have no knowledge, for they could not read. They had no 
idea but of the few things that were within their view, and 
had hardly names for anything but their clothes and their 
food. As I bore a superior character, I was often called to 


terminate their quarrels, which I decided as equitably as I 
could. If it could have amused me to hear the complaints 
of each against the rest, I might have been often detained 
by long stories ; but the motives of their animosity were so 
small that I could not listen without interrupting the tale." 

" How," said Rasselas, " can the Arab, whom you repre- 
sented as a man of more than common accomplishments, 
take any pleasure in his seraglio, when it is filled only with 
women like these? Are they exquisitely beautiful?" 

"They do not,"' said Pekuah, "want that unaffecting and 
ignoble beauty which may subsist without sprightliness or 
sublimity, without energy of thought or dignity of virtue. 
But to a man like the Arab such beauty was only a flower 
casually plucked and carelessly thrown away. Whatever 
pleasures he might find among them, they were not those 
of friendship or society. When they were playing about 
him, he looked on them with inattentive superiority : when 
they vied for his regard, he sometimes turned away disgusted. 
As they had no knowledge, their talk could take nothing 
from the tediousness of life : as they had no choice, their 
fondness, or appearance of fondness, excited in him neither 
pride nor gratitude. He was not exalted in his own esteem 
by the smiles of a woman who saw no other man, nor was 
much obliged by that regard of which he could never know 
the sincerity, and which he might often perceive to be exerted 
not so much to delight him as to pain a rival. That which 
he gave, and they received, as love, was only a careless 
distribution of superfluous time ; such love as man can 
bestow upon that which he despises, such as has neither 
hope nor fear, neither joy nor sorrow." 

" You have reason, lady, to think yourself happy," said 
Imlac, " that you have been thus easily dismissed. How 
could a mind, hungry for knowledge, be willing, in an 
intellectual famine, to lose such a banquet as Pekuah's 
conversation ? " 

" I am inclined to believe," answered Pekuah, "that he 

&4SSELAS. 263 

was for some time in suspense; for notwithstanding Ki c 
promise, whenever I proposed to despatch a messenger to 
Cairo he found some excuse for delay. While I was 
detained in his house he made many incursions into the 
neighbouring countries, and perhaps he would have refused 
to discharge me had his plunder been equal to his wishes. 
He returned always courteous, related his adventures, 
delighted to hear my observations, and endeavoured to 
advance my acquaintance with the stars. When I impor- 
tuned him to send away my letters, he soothed me with 
professions of honour and sincerity ; and when I could 
be no longer decently denied, put his troop again in motion, 
and left me to govern in his absence. I was much afflicted 
by this studied procrastination, and was sometimes afraid 
that I should be forgotten ; that you would leave Cairo, and 
I must end my days in an island of the Nile. 

"I grew at last hopeless and dejected, and cared so little 
to entertain him, that he for a while more frequently talked 
with my maids. That he should fall in love with them, or 
with me, might have been equally fatal ; and I was not 
much pleased with the growing friendship. My anxiety was 
not long ; for, as I recovered some degree of cheerfulness, 
he returned to me, and I could not forbear to despise my 
former uneasiness. 

" He still delayed to send for my ransom, and would per- 
haps never have determined had not your agent found his 
way to him. The gold, which he would not fetch, he could 
not reject when it was offered. He hastened to prepare for 
our journey hither, like a man delivered from the pain of 
an intestine conflict. I took leave of my companions in 
the house, who dismissed me with cold indifference." 

Nekayah having heard her favourite's relation, rose and 
embraced her; and Rasselas gave her a hundred ounces of 
gold, which she presented to the Arab for the fifty that were 


The History of a Man of Learning. 

THEY returned to Cairo, and were so well pleased at finding 
themselves together, that none of them went much abroad. 
The Prince began to love learning, and one day declared to 
Imlac that he intended to devote himself to science, and 
pass the rest of his days in literary solitude. 

" Before you make your final choice," answered Imlac, 
"you ought to examine its hazards, and converse with some 
of those who are grown old in the company of themselves. 
I have just left the observatory of one of the most learned 
astronomers in the world, who has spent forty years in 
unwearied attention to the motion and appearances of the 
celestial bodies, and has drawn out his soul in endless 
calculations. He admits a few friends once a month to 
hear his deductions and enjoy his discoveries. I was 
introduced as a man of knowledge worthy of his notice. 
Men of various ideas and fluent conversation are commonly 
welcome to those whose thoughts have been long fixed upon 
a single point, and who find the images of other things 
stealing away. I delighted him with my remarks. He smiled 
at the narrative of my travels, and was glad to forget the con- 
stellations, and descend fo ra moment into the lower world. 

" On the next day of vacation I renewed my visit, and 
was so fortunate as to please him again. He relaxed from 
that time the severity of his rule and permitted me to enter 
at my own choice. I found him always busy, and always 
glad to be relieved. As each -knew much which the other 
was desirous of learning, we exchanged our notions with 
great delight. I perceived that I had every day more of 
his confidence, and always found new cause of admiration 
in the profundity of his mind. His comprehension is vast, 
his memory capacious and retentive, his discourse is 
methodical, and his expression clear. 


" His integrity and benevolence are equal to his learning. 
His deepest researches and most favourite studies are 
willingly interrupted for any opportunity of doing good by 
his counsel or his riches. To his closest retreat, at his 
most busy moments, all are admitted that want his assist- 
ance : ' For though I exclude idleness and pleasure, I will 
never,' says he, ' bar my doors against charity. To man is 
permitted the contemplation of the skies, but the practice 
of virtue is commanded.' " 

" Surely," said the Princess, " this man is happy." 

"I visited him," said Imlac, "with more and more 
frequency, and was every time more enamoured of his 
conversation : he was sublime without haughtiness, courteous 
without formality, and communicative without ostentation. 
I was at first, great Princess, of your opinion, thought him 
the happiest of mankind, and often congratulated him on 
the blessing that he enjoyed. He seemed to hear nothing 
with indifference but the praises of his condition, to which 
he always returned a general answer, and diverted the con- 
versation to some other topic. 

" Amidst this willingness to be pleased and labour to 
please, I had quickly reason to imagine that some painful 
sentiment pressed upon his mind. He often looked up 
earnestly towards the sun, and let his voice fall in the midst 
of his discourse. He would sometimes, when we were 
alone, gaze upon me in silence with the air of a man who 
longed to speak what he was yet resolved to suppress. He 
would often send for me with vehement injunction of haste, 
though when I came to him he had nothing extraordinary 
to say. And sometimes, when I was leaving him, would 
call me back, pause a few moments, and then dismiss me." 



The Astronomer discovers the Cause of his Uneasiness. 

" AT last the time came when the secret burst his reserve. 
We were sitting together last night in the turret of his house 
watching the immersion of a satellite of Jupiter. A sudden 
tempest clouded the sky and disappointed our observation. 
We sat awhile silent in the dark, and then he addressed 
himself to me in these words : ' Imlac, I have long con- 
sidered thy friendship as the greatest blessing of my life. 
Integrity without knowledge is weak and useless, and know- 
ledge without integrity is dangerous and dreadful. I have 
found in thee all the qualities requisite for trust : benevo- 
lence, experience, and fortitude. I have long discharged 
an office which I must soon quit at the call of nature, and 
shall rejoice in the hour of imbecility and pain to devolve it 
upon thee.' 

"I thought myself honoured by this testimony, and pro- 
tested that whatever could conduce to his happiness would 
add likewise to mine. 

" ' Hear, Imlac, what thou wilt not without difficulty credit. 
I have possessed for five years the regulation of the weather 
and the distribution of the seasons. The sun has listened 
to my dictates, and passed from tropic to tropic by my 
direction ; the clouds at my call have poured their waters, 
and the Nile has overflowed at my command. I have re- 
strained the rage of the dog-star, and mitigated the fervours 
of the crab. The winds alone, of all the elemental powers, 
have hitherto refused my authority, and multitudes have 
perished by equinoctial tempests which I found myself 
unable to prohibit or restrain. I have administered this 
great office .with exact justice, and made to the different 
nations of the earth an impartial dividend of rain and sun- 
shine. What must have been the misery of half the globe 


if I had limited the clouds to particular regions, or confined 
the sun to either side of the equator ? ' " 


T7ie Opinion of the Astronomer is explained and justified. 

" I SUPPOSE he discovered in me, through the obscurity of 
the room, some tokens of amazement and doubt ; for after 
a short pause he proceeded thus : 

" ' Not to be easily credited will neither surprise nor offend 
me, for I am probably the first of human beings to whom 
this trust has been imparted. Nor do I know whether to 
deem this distinction a reward or punishment. Since I have 
possessed it I have been far less happy than before, and 
nothing but the consciousness of good intention could have 
enabled me to support the weariness of unremitted vigilance.' 

" ' How long, sir/ said I, ' has this great office been in 
your hands ? ' 

" ' About ten years ago,' said he, ' my daily observations of 
the changes of the sky led me to consider whether, if I had 
the power of the seasons, I could confer greater plenty upon 
the inhabitants of the earth. This contemplation fastened 
on my mind, and I sat days and nights in imaginary 
dominion, pouring upon this country and that the showers 
of fertility, and seconding every fall of rain with a due pro- 
portion of sunshine. I had yet only the will to do good, 
and did not imagine that I should ever have the power. 

" ' One day as I was looking on the fields withering with 
heat, I felt in my mind a sudden wish that I could send rain 
on the southern mountains, and raise the Nile to an inunda- 
tion. In the hurry of my imagination I commanded rain 
to fall ; and by comparing the time of my command with 
that of the inundation, I found that the clouds had listened 
io my lips. 

" ' Might not some other cause,' said I, ' produce this 


concurrence ? The Nile does not always rise on the same 

" ' Do not believe,' said he with impatience, ' that such ob- 
jections could escape me : I reasoned long against my own 
conviction, and laboured against truth with the utmost 
obstinacy. I sometimes suspected myself of madness, and 
should not have dared to impart this secret but to a man 
like you, capable of distinguishing the wonderful from the 
impossible, and the incredible from the false." 

" ' Why, sir,' said I, ' do you call that incredible which you 
know, or think you know, to be true ? ' 

" ' Because,' said he, ' I cannot prove it by any external 
evidence : and I know too well the laws of demonstration 
to think that my conviction ought to influence another, who 
cannot, like me, be conscious of its force. I therefore 
shall not attempt to gain credit by disputation. It is suf- 
ficient that I feel this power that I have long possessed, 
and every day exerted it. But the life of man is short : the 
infirmities of age increase upon me, and the time will soon 
come when the regulator of the year must mingle with the 
dust. The care of appointing a successor has long disturbed 
me : the night and the day have been spent in comparisons 
of all the characters which have come to my knowledge, and 
I have yet found none so worthy as thyself.' " 


The Astronomer leaves Imlac his Directions, 

" ( HEAR, therefore, what I shall impart with attention, such 
as the welfare of a world requires. If the task of a king be 
considered as difficult, who has the care only of a few 
millions, to whom he cannot do much good or harm, what 
must be the anxiety of him on whom depends the action of 
the elements and the great gifts of light and heat ? Hear 
me, therefore, with attention. 

R ASS EL AS. 269 

t( I have diligently considered the position of the earth 
and sun, and formed innumerable schemes, in which I 
changed their situation. I have sometimes turned aside the 
axis of the earth, and sometimes varied the ecliptic of the 
sun ; but I have found it impossible to make a disposition 
by which the world may be advantaged : what one region 
gains, another loses by an imaginable alteration, even with- 
out considering the distant parts of the solar system with 
which we are acquainted. Do not, therefore, in thy ad- 
ministration of the year, indulge thy pride by innovation ; 
do not please thyself with thinking that thou canst make 
thyself renowned to all future ages by disordering the sea- 
sons. The memory of mischief is no desirable fame. Much 
less will it become thee to let kindness or interest prevail. 
Never rob other countries of rain to pour it on thine own. 
For us the Nile is sufficient.' 

" I promised that when I possessed the power, I would 
use it with inflexible integrity ; and he dismissed me, press^ 
ing my hand. ' My heart,' said he, ' will be now at rest, and 
my benevolence will no more destroy my quiet : I have 
found a man of wisdom and virtue, to whom I can cheer- 
fully bequeath the inheritance of the sun.' " 

The Prince heard this narration with very serious regard ; 
but the Princess smiled, and Pekuah convulsed herself with 
laughter. " Ladies," said Imlac, " to mock the heaviest of 
human afflictions is neither charitable nor wise. Few 
can attain this man's knowledge, and few practise his 
virtues ; but all may suffer his calamity. Of the uncertainties 
of our present state, the most dreadful and alarming is the 
uncertain continuance of reason." 

The Princess was recollected, and the favourite was 
abashed. Rasselas, more deeply affected, inquired of Imlac 
whether he thought such maladies of the mind frequent, and 
how they were contracted. 



The dangerous Prevalence of Imagination. 

" DISORDERS of intellect," answered Imlac, " happen much 
more often than superficial observers will easily believe. 
Perhaps if we speak with rigorous exactness, no human mind 
is in its right state. There is no man whose imagination 
does not sometimes predominate over his reason, who can 
regulate his attention wholly by his will, and whose ideas 
will come and go at his command. No man will be found 
in whose mind airy notions do not sometimes tyrannize, and 
force him to hope or fear beyond the limits of sober pro- 
bability. All power of fancy over reason is a degree of in- 
sanity ; but while this power is such as we can control and 
repress, it is not visible to others, nor considered as any 
deprivation of the mental faculties : it is not pronounced 
madness but when it becomes ungovernable, and apparently 
influences speech or action. 

" To indulge the power of fiction and send imagination 
out upon the wing is often the sport of those who delight 
too much in silent speculation. When we are alone we are 
not always busy ; the labour of excogitation is too violent 
to last long; the ardour of inquiry will sometimes give way 
to idleness or satiety. He who has nothing external that 
can divert him must find pleasure in his own thoughts, and 
must conceive himself what he is not ; for who is pleased 
with what he is ? He then expatiates in boundless futurity, 
and culls from all imaginable conditions that which for the 
present moment he should most desire, amuses his desires 
with impossible enjoyments, and confers upon his pride 
unattainable dominion. The mind dances from scene to 
scene, unites all pleasures in all combinations, and riots in 
delights which nature and fortune, with all their bounty, 
cannot bestow. 


" In time some particular train of ideas fixes the atten- 
tion ; all other intellectual gratifications are rejected ; the 
mind, in weariness or leisure, recurs constantly to the 
favourite conception, and feasts on the luscious falsehood 
whenever she is offended with the bitterness of truth. By 
degrees the reign of fancy is confirmed ; she grows first impe- 
rious and in time despotic. Then fictions begin to operate 
as realities, false opinions fasten upon the mind, and life 
passes in dreams of rapture or of anguish. 

" This, sir, is one of the dangers of solitude, which the 
hermit has confessed not always to promote goodness, 
and the astronomer's misery has proved to be not always 
propitious to wisdom." 

" I will no more," said the favourite, " imagine myself 
the Queen of Abyssinia. I have often spent the hours 
which the Princess gave to my own disposal in adjusting 
ceremonies and regulating the Court ; I have repressed the 
pride of the powerful and granted the petitions of the poor ; 
I have built new palaces in more happy situations, planted 
groves upon the tops of mountains, and have exulted in the 
beneficence of royalty, till, when the Princess entered, I had 
almost forgotten to bow down before her." 

" And I," said the Princess, " will not allow myself any 
more to play the shepherdess in my waking dreams. I have 
often soothed my thoughts with the quiet and innocence of 
pastoral employments, till I have in my chamber heard the 
winds whistle and the sheep bleat ; sometimes freed the 
lamb entangled in the thicket, and sometimes with my crook 
encountered the wolf. I have a dress like that of the village 
maids, which I put on to help my imagination, and a pipe 
on which I play softly, and suppose myself followed by my 

" I will confess," said the Prince, " an indulgence of 
fantastic delight more dangerous than yours. I have fre- 
quently endeavoured to imagine the possibility of a perfect 
government, by which all wrong should be lestrained, all 


vice reformed, and all the subjects preserved in tranquillity 
and innocence. This thought produced innumerable schemes 
of reformation, and dictated many useful regulations and 
salutary effects. This has been the sport and sometimes 
the labour of my solitude, and I start when I think with how 
little anguish I once supposed the death of my father and 
my brothers." 

". Such," said Imlac, " are the effects of visionary schemes. 
When we first form them, we know them to be absurd, but 
familiarize them by degrees, and in time lose sight of their 
folly." . 


They discourse -with an Old Man. 

THE evening was now far past, and they rose to return 
home. As they walked along the banks of the Nile, 
delighted with the beams of the moon quivering on the 
water, they saw at a small distance an old man whom the 
Prince had often heard in the assembly of the sages. 
" Yonder," said he, " is one whose years have calmed his 
passions, but not clouded his reason. Let us close the 
disquisitions of the night by inquiring what are his senti- 
ments of his own state, that we may know whether youth 
alone is to struggle with vexation, and whether any better 
hope remains for the latter part of life." 

Here the sage approached and saluted them. They invited 
him to join their walk, and prattled awhile as acquaintance 
that had unexpectedly met one another. The old man was 
cheerful and talkative, and the way seemed short in his 
company. He was pleased to find himself not disregarded, 
accompanied them to their house, and, at the Prince's 
request, entered with them. They placed him in the seat of 
honour, and set wine and conserves before him. 

" Sir," said the Princess, " an evening walk must give to 
a man of learning like you pleasures which ignorance and 


youth can hardly conceive. You know the qualities and the 
causes of all that you behold the laws by which the river 
flows, the periods in which the planets perform their revolu- 
tions. Everything must supply you with contemplation, 
and renew the consciousness of your own dignity." 

" Lady," answered he, " let the gay and the vigorous expect 
pleasure in their excursions : it is enough that age can attain 
ease. To me the world has lost its novelty. I look round, and 
see what I remember to have seen in happier days. I rest 
against a tree, and consider that in the same shade I once 
disputed upon the annual overflow of the Nile with a friend 
who is now silent in the grave. I cast my eyes upwards, fix 
them on the changing moon, and think with pain on the 
vicissitudes of life. I have ceased to take much delight in 
physical truth ; for what have I to do with those things 
which I am soon to leave ? " 

" You may at least recreate yourself," said Imlac, " with 
the recollection of an honourable and useful life, and enjoy 
the praise which all agree to give you." 

" Praise," said the sage with a sigh " is to an old man an 
empty sound. I have neither mother to be delighted with the 
reputation of her son, nor wife to partake the honours of 
her husband. I have outlived my friends and my rivals. 
Nothing is now of much importance ; for I cannot extend 
my interest beyond myself. Youth is delighted with 
applause, because it is considered as the earnest of some 
future good, and because the prospect of life is far extended; 
but to me, who am now declining to decrepitude, there is 
little to be feared from the malevolence of men, and yet less 
to be hoped from their affection or esteem. Something 
they may yet take away, but they can give me nothing. 
Riches would now be useless, and high employment would 
be pain. My retrospect of life recalls to my view many 
opportunities of good neglected, much time squandered 
upon trifles, and more lost in idleness and vacancy. I leave 
many great designs unattempted, and many great attempts 


unfinished. My mind is burdened with no heavy crime, 
and therefore I compose myself to tranquillity ; endeavour 
to abstract my thoughts from hopes and cares which, though 
reason knows them to be vain, still try to keep their old 
possession of the heart ; expect, with serene humility, that 
hour which nature cannot long delay, and hope to possess 
in a better state that happiness which here I could not 
find, and that virtue which here I have not attained." 

He arose and went away, leaving his audience not much 
elated with the hope of long life. The Prince consoled 
himself with remarking that it was not reasonable to be 
disappointed by this account ; for age had never been con- 
sidered as the season of felicity, and if it was possible to 
be easy in decline and weakness, it was likely that the days 
of vigour and alacrity might be happy ; that the noon of 
life might be bright, if the evening could be calm. 

The Princess suspected that age was querulous and 
malignant, and delighted to repress the expectations of those 
who had newly entered the world. She had seen the pos- 
sessors of estates look with envy on their heirs, and known 
many who enjoyed pleasures no longer than they could con- 
fine it to themselves. 

Pekuah conjectured that the man was older than he 
appeared, and was willing to impute his complaints to 
delirious dejection ; or else supposed that he had been 
unfortunate, and was therefore discontented. " For nothing," 
said she, " is more common than to call our own condition 
the condition of life." 

Imlac, who had no desire to see them depressed, smiled 
at the comforts which they could so readily procure to 
themselves ; and remembered that at the same age he was 
equally confident of unmingled prosperity, and equally 
fertile of consolatory expedients. He forbore to force upon 
them unwelcome knowledge, which time itself would too 
soon impress. The Princess and her lady retired ; the 
madness of the astronomer hung upon their minds ; and 



they desired Imlac to enter upon his office, and delay next 
morning the rising of the sun. 


The Princess attd Pekuah visit the Astronomer. 

THE Princess and Pekuah, having talked in private of Imlac's 
astronomer, thought his character at once so amiable and so 
strange that they could not be satisfied without a nearer 
knowledge, and Imlac was requested to find the means of 
bringing them together. 

This was somewhat difficult. The philosopher had never 
received any visits from women, though he lived in a city 
that had in it many Europeans, who followed the manners of 
their own countries, and many from other parts of the world, 
that lived there with European liberty. The ladies would 
not be refused, and several schemes were proposed for the 
accomplishment of their design. It was proposed to intro- 
duce them as strangers in distress, to whom the sage was 
always accessible ; but after some deliberation it appeared 
that by this artifice no acquaintance could be formed, for 
their conversation would be short, and they could not 
decently importune him often. " This," said Rasselas, 
" is true ; but I have yet a stronger objection against the mis- 
representation of your state. I have always considered 
it as treason against the great republic of human nature to 
make any man's virtues the means of deceiving him, whether 
on great or little occasions. All imposture weakens con- 
fidence and chills benevolence. When the sage finds that 
you are not what you seemed, he will feel the resentment 
natural to a man who, conscious of great abilities, discovers 
that he has been tricked by understandings meaner than his 
own, and perhaps the distrust which he can never after- 
wards wholly lay aside may stop the voice of counsel and 
close the hand of charity; and where will you find the 


power of restoring his benefactions to mankind, or his 
peace to himself?" 

To this no reply was attempted, and Imlac began to hope 
that their curiosity would subside ; but next day Pekuah 
told him she had now found an honest pretence for a visit to 
the astronomer, for she would solicit permission to continue 
under him the studies in which she had been initiated by the 
Arab, and the Princess might go with her, either as a fellow- 
student, or because a woman could not decently come alone. 
" I am afraid," said Imlac, " that he will soon be weary of 
your company. Men advanced far in knowledge do not love 
to repeat the elements of their art, and I am not certain that 
even of the elements, as he will deliver them, connected 
with inferences and mingled with reflections, you are a very 
capable auditress." " That," said Pekuah, " must be my 
care. I ask of you only to take me thither. My knowledge 
is perhaps more than you imagine it, and by concurring 
always with his opinions I shall make him think it greater 
than it is." 

The astronomer, in pursuance of this resolution, was told 
that a foreign lady, travelling in search of knowledge, had 
heard of his reputation, and was desirous to become his 
scholar. The uncommonness of the proposal raised at once 
his surprise and curiosity, and when after a short delibera- 
tion he consented to admit her, he could not stay without 
impatience till the next day. 

The ladies dressed themselves magnificently, and were 
attended by Imlac to the astronomer, who was pleased to 
see himself approached with respect by persons of so 
splendid an appearance. In the exchange of the first civili- 
ties he was timorous and bashful ; but when the talk 
became regular, he recollected his powers, and justified the 
character which Imlac had given. Inquiring of Pekuah 
what could have turned her inclination towards astronomy, 
he received from her a history of her adventure at the 
Pyramid, and of the time passed in the Arab's island. She 

&ASSELAS. 4 7 7 

told her tale with ease and elegance, and her conversation 
took possession of his heart. The discourse was then turned 
to astronomy. Pekuah displayed what she knew. He 
looked upon her as a prodigy of genius, and entreated her 
not to desist from a study which she had so happily begun. 

They came again and again, and were every time more 
welcome than before. The sage endeavoured to amuse 
them, that they might prolong their visits, for he found his 
thoughts grow brighter in their company ; the clouds of 
solicitude vanished by degrees as he forced himself to 
entertain them, and he grieved when he was left, at their 
departure, to his old employment of regulating the seasons. 

The Princess and her favourite had now watched his lips 
for several months, and could not catch a single word from 
which they could judge whether he continued or not in the 
opinion of his preternatural commission. They often con- 
trived to bring him to an open declaration ; but he easily 
eluded all their attacks, and, on which side soever they 
pressed him, escaped from them to some other topic. 

As their familiarity increased, they invited him often 
to the house of Imlac, where they distinguished him by 
extraordinary respect. He began gradually to delight in 
sublunary pleasures. He came early and departed late ; 
laboured to recommend himself by assiduity and compliance ; 
excited their curiosity after new arts, that they might still 
want his assistance ; and when they made any excursion of 
pleasure or inquiry, entreated to attend them. 

By long experience of his integrity and wisdom, the 
Prince and his sister were convinced that he might be 
trusted without danger; and lest he should draw any false 
hopes from the civilities which he received, discovered to 
him their condition, with the motives of their journey, and 
required his opinion on the choice of life. 

"Of the various conditions which the world spreads 
before you which you shall prefer," said the sage, " I am 
not able to instruct you. I can only tell that I have chosen 


wrong. I have passed my time in study without experience : 
in the attainment of sciences which can for the most part 
be but remotely useful to mankind. I have purchased 
knowledge at the expense of all the common comforts of 
life : I have missed the endearing elegance of female friend- 
ship, and the happy commerce of domestic tenderness. If I 
have obtained any prerogatives above other students, they 
have been accompanied with fear, disquiet, and scrupulosity ; 
but even of these prerogatives, whatever they were, I have, 
since my thoughts have been diversified by more intercourse 
with the world, begun to question the reality. When I have 
been for a few days lost in pleasing dissipation, I am always 
tempted to think that my inquiries have ended in error, and 
that I have suffered much, and suffered it in vain." 

Imlac was delighted to find that the sage's understanding 
was breaking through its mists, and resolved to detain him 
from the planets till he should forget his task of ruling 
them, and reason should recover its original influence. 

From this time the astronomer was received into familiar 
friendship, and partook of all their projects and pleasures : 
his respect kept him attentive, and the activity of Rasselas 
did not leave much time unengaged, Something was always 
to be done : the day was spent in making observations, 
which furnished talk for the evening, and the evening was 
closed with a scheme for the morrow. 

The sage confessed to Imlac that since he had mingled 
in the gay tumults of life, and divided his hours by a succes- 
sion of amusements, he found the conviction of his authority 
over the skies fade gradually from his mind, and began to 
trust less to an opinion which he never could prove to others, 
and which he now found subject to variation, from causes in 
which reason had no part. " If I am accidentally left alone 
for a few hours," said he, "my inveterate persuasion rushes 
upon my soul, and my thoughts are chained down by some 
irresistible violence ; but they are soon disentangled by the 
Prince's conversation, and instantaneously released at the 


entrance of Pekuah. I am like a man habitually afraid of 
spectres, who is set at ease by a lamp, and wonders at the 
dread which harassed him in the dark ; yet, if his lamp be 
extinguished, feels again the terrors which he knows that 
when it is light he shall feel no more. But I am sometimes 
afraid, lest I indulge my quiet by criminal negligence, and 
voluntarily forget the great charge with which I am entrusted. 
If I favour myself in a known error, or am determined by 
my own ease in a doubtful question of this importance, how 
dreadful is my crime ! " 

" No disease of the imagination/' answered Imlac, " is so 
difficult of cure as that which is complicated with the dread 
of guilt; fancy and conscience then act interchangeably 
upon us, and so often shift their places that the illusions of 
one are not distinguished from the dictates of the other. If 
fancy presents images not moral or religious, the mind drives 
them away when they give it pain ; but when melancholy 
notions take the form of duty, they lay hold on the 
faculties without opposition, because we are afraid to 
exclude or banish them. For this reason the superstitious 
are often melancholy, and the melancholy almost always 

"But do not let the suggestions of timidity overpower 
your better reason : the danger of neglect can be but as the 
probability of the obligation, which, when you consider it 
with freedom, you find very little, and that little growing 
every day less. Open your heart to the influence of the 
light, which from time to time breaks in upon you : when 
scruples importune you, which you in your lucid moments 
know to be vain, do not stand to parley, but fly to business 
or to Pekuah ; and keep this thought always prevalent, that 
you are only one atom of the mass of humanity, and have 
neither such virtue nor vice as that you should be singled 
out for supernatural favours or afflictions." 



The Prince enters, and brings a new Topic, 

"ALL this," said the astronomer, "I have often thought; 
but my reason has been so long subjugated by an uncon- 
trollable and overwhelming idea, that it durst not confide in 
its own decisions. I now see how fatally I betrayed my 
quiet, by suffering chimeras to prey upon me in secret ; but 
melancholy shrinks from communication, and I never found 
a man before to whom I could impart my troubles, though 
I had been certain of relief. I rejoice to find my own senti- 
ments confirmed by yours, who are not easily deceived, and 
can have no motive or purpose to deceive. I hope that 
time and variety will dissipate the gloom that has so long 
surrounded me, and the latter part of my days will be spent 
in peace." 

" Your learning and virtue," said Imlac, "may justly give 
you hopes." 

Rasselas then entered, with the Princess and Pekuah, and 
inquired whether they had contrived any new diversion for 
the next day. " Such," said Nekayah, " is the state of 
life, that none are happy but by the anticipation of change : 
the change itself is nothing ; when we have made it, the 
next wish is to change again. The world is not yet 
exhausted ; let me see something to-morrow which I never 
saw before." 

" Variety," said Rasselas, " is so necessary to content, that 
even the Happy Valley disgusted me by the recurrence of its 
luxuries ; yet I could not forbear to reproach myself with 
impatience when I saw the monks of St. Anthony support, 
without complaint, a life, not of uniform delight, but uniform 

" Those men," answered Imlac, " are less wretched in 
their silent convent than the Abyssinian princes in their 
prison of pleasure. Whatever is done by the monks is in- 


cited by an adequate and reasonable motive. Their labour 
supplies them with necessaries ; it therefore cannot be 
omitted, and is certainly rewarded. Their devotion prepares 
them for another state, and reminds them of its approach, 
while it fits them for it. Their time is regularly distributed ; 
one duty succeeds another ; so that they are not left open 
to the distraction of unguided choice, nor lost in the shades 
of listless inactivity. There is a certain task to be per- 
formed at an appropriated hour ; and their toils are cheerful, 
because they consider them as acts of piety, by which they 
are always advancing towards endless felicity." 

" Do you think," said Nekayah, " that the monastic rule 
is a more holy and less imperfect state than any other? 
May not he equally hope for future happiness who converses 
openly with mankind, who succours the distressed by his 
charity, instructs the ignorant by his learning, and contri- 
butes by his industry to the general system of life ; even 
though he should omit some of the mortifications which are 
practised in the cloister, and allow himself such harmless 
delights as his condition may place within his reach ? " 

" This," said Imlac, " is a question which has long 
divided the wise and perplexed the good. I am afraid to 
decide on either part. He that lives well in the world is 
better than he that lives well in a monastery. But perhaps 
every one is not able to stem the temptations of public 
life ; and if he cannot conquer, he may properly retreat. 
Some have little power to do good, and have likewise little 
strength to resist evil. Many are weary of the conflicts 
with adversity, and are willing to eject those passions which 
have long busied them in vain. And many are dismissed 
by age and diseases from the more laborious duties of 
society. In monasteries the weak and timorous may be 
happily sheltered, the weary may repose, and the penitent 
may meditate. Those retreats of prayer and contemplation 
have something so congenial to the mind of man, that 
perhaps there is scarcely one that does not purpose to 


close his life in pious abstraction, with a few associates 
serious as himself." 

" Such," said Pekuah, " has often been my wish ; and I 
have heard the Princess declare that she should not willingly 
die in a crowd." 

" The liberty of using harmless pleasures," proceeded 
Imlac, " will not be disputed ; but it is still to be examined 
what pleasuies are harmless. The evil of any pleasure that 
Nekayah can image is not in the act itself, but in its con- 
sequences. Pleasure in itself harmless may become 
mischievous by endearing to us a state which we know to 
be transient and probatory, and withdrawing our thoughts 
from that of which every hour brings us nearer to the 
beginning, and of which no length of time will bring us to 
the end. Mortification is not virtuous in itself, nor has any 
other use but that it disengages us from the allurements of 
sense. In the state of future perfection to which we all 
aspire there will be pleasure without danger, and security 
without restraint" 

The Princess was silent, and Rasselas, turning to the 
astronomer, asked him whether he could not delay her retreat 
by showing her something which she had not seen before. 

"Your curiosity," said the sage, "has been so general, 
and your pursuit of knowledge so vigorous, that novelties 
are not now very easily to be found ; but what you can no 
longer procure from the living may be given by the dead. 
Among the wonders of this country are the catacombs, or 
the ancient repositories in which the bodies of the earliest 
generations were lodged, and where, by the virtue of the 
gums which embalmed them, they yet remain without 

" I know not," said Rasselas, " what pleasure the sight of 
the catacombs can afford; but, since nothing else is 
offered, I am resolved to view them, and shall place this 
with my other things which I have done, because I would 
do something." 


They hired a guard of horsemen, and the next day visited 
the catacombs. When they were about to- descend into the 
sepulchral caves, "Pekuah," said the Princess, "*we are 
now again invading the habitations of the dead ; I know 
that you will stay behind. Let me find you safe when I 
return." " No, I will not be left," answered Pekuah ; " I will 
go down between you and the Prince." 

They then all descended, and roved with wonder through 
the labyrinth of subterraneous passages, where the bodies 
were laid in rows on either side. 


Inilac discourses on the Nature of the Soul. 

"WHAT reason," said the Prince, "can be given why the 
Egyptians should thus expensively preserve those carcases 
which some nations consume with fire, others lay to mingle 
with the earth, and all agree to remove from their sight as 
soon as decent rites can be performed." 

" The original of ancient customs," said Imlac, " is com- 
monly unknown, for the practice often continues when the 
cause has ceased; and concerning superstitious ceremo- 
nies it is vain to conjecture ; for what reason did not dictate, 
reason cannot explain. I have long believed that the prac- 
tice of embalming arose only from tenderness to the remains 
of relations or friends ; and to this opinion I am more in- 
clined because it seems impossible that this care should 
have been general ; had all the dead been embalmed, their 
repositories must in time have been more spacious than the 
dwellings of the living, I suppose only the rich or honour- 
able were secured from corruption, and the rest left to the 
course of nature. 

" But it is commonly supposed that the Egyptians believed 
the soul to live as long as the body continued undissolved, 
and therefore tried this method of eluding death." 


" Could the wise Egyptians," said Nekayah, " think so 
grossly of the soul? If the soul could once survive its 
separation, what could it afterwards receive or suffer from 
the body?" 

" The Egyptians would doubtless think erroneously," said 
the astronomer, " in the darkness of heathenism and the 
first dawn of philosophy. The nature of the soul is still 
disputed amidst all our opportunities of clearer knowledge ; 
some yet say that it may be material, who, nevertheless, 
believe it to be immortal." 

" Some," answered Imlac, " have indeed said that the 
soul is material, but I can scarcely believe that any man has 
thought it who knew how to think ; for all the conclusions 
of reason enforce the immaterality of mind, and all the 
notices of sense and investigations of science concur to 
prove the unconsciousness of matter. 

" It was never supposed that cogitation is inherent in 
matter, or that every particle is a thinking being. Yet if 
any part of matter be devoid of thought, what part can we 
suppose to think ? Matter can differ from matter only in 
form, density, bulk, motion, and direction of motion. To 
which of these, however varied or combined, can conscious- 
ness be annexed ? To be round or square, to be solid or 
fluid, to be great or little, to be moved slowly or swiftly, 
one way or another, are modes of material existence all 
equally alien from the nature of cogitation. If matter be 
once without thought, it can only be made to think by 
some new modification ; but all the modifications which it 
can admit are equally unconnected with cogitative powers." 
" But the materialists," said the astronomer, " urge that 
matter may have qualities with which we are unacquainted." 
" He who will determine," returned Imlac, " against that 
which he knows because there may be something which he 
knows not, he that can set hypothetical possibility against 
acknowledged certainty, is not to be admitted among 
reasonable beings. All that we know of matter is, that 


matter is inert, senseless, and lifeless ; and if this conviction 
cannot be opposed but by referring us to something that 
we know not, we have all the evidence that human intellect 
can admit. If that which is known may be overruled by that 
which is unknown, no being, not omniscient, can arrive at 

" Yet let us not," said the astronomer, " too arrogantly 
limit the Creator's power." 

" It is no limitation of Omnipotence," replied the poet, 
"to suppose that one thing is not consistent with another, 
that the same proposition cannot be at once true and false, 
that the same number cannot be even and odd, that 
cogitation cannot be conferred on that which is created in- 
capable of cogitation." 

" I know not," said Nekayah, " any great use of this 
question. Does that immateriality, which in my opinion 
you have sufficiently proved, necessarily include eternal 

" Of immateriality," said Imlac, " our ideas are negative, 
and therefore obscure. Immateriality seems to imply a 
natural power of perpetual duration as a consequence of 
exemption from all causes of decay : whatever perishes is 
destroyed by the solution of its contexture and separation of 
its parts ; nor can we conceive how that which has no parts, 
and therefore admits no solution, can be naturally corrupted 
or impaired." 

" I know not," said Rasselas, " how to conceive anything 
without extension : what is extended must have parts, and 
you allow that whatever has parts may be destroyed." 

" Consider your own conceptions," replied Imlac, " and 
the difficulty will be less. You will find substance without 
extension. An ideal form is no less real than material 
bulk ; yet an ideal form has no extension. It is no less 
certain, when you think on a pyramid, that your mind 
possesses the idea of a pyramid, than that the pyramid it- 
self is standing. What space does the idea of a pyramid 


occupy more than the idea of a grain of corn ? or how can 
either idea suffer laceration ? As is the effect, such is the 
cause ; as thought, such is the power that thinks, a power 
impassive and indiscerptible." 

" But the Being," said Nekayah, " whom I fear to name, 
the Being which made the soul, can destroy it." 

"He surely can destroy it," answered Imlac, " since, how- 
ever imperishable, it receives from a superior nature its 
power of duration. That it will not perish by any inherent 
cause of decay or principle of corruption, may be shown by 
philosophy ; but philosophy can tell no more. That it will 
not be annihilated by Him that made it, we must humbly 
learn from higher authority." 

The whole assembly stood awhile silent and collected. 
" Let us return," said Rasselas, "from this scene of mor- 
tality. How gloomy would be these mansions of the dead to 
him who did not know that he should never die ; that what 
now acts shall continue its agency, and what now thinks shall 
think on for ever. Those that lie here stretched before us, the 
wise and the powerful of ancient times, warn us to remember 
the shortness of our present state; they were perhaps snatched 
away while they were busy, like us, in the choice of life." 

" To me/' said the Princess, " the choice of life is become 
less important ; I hope hereafter to think only on the choice 
of eternity." 

They then hastened out of the caverns, and under the 
protection of their guard returned to Cairo. 


The Conclusion, in which frothing is Concluded, 

IT was now the time of the inundation of the Nile. A few 

days after their visit to the catacombs the river began to rise. 

They were confined to their house. The whole region 

being under water, gave then; r.o invitnlicn to any cxcur- 


sions ; and being well supplied with materials for talk, they 
diverted themselves with comparisons of the different forms 
of life which they had observed, and with various schemes 
of happiness which each of them had formed. 

Pekuah was never so much charmed with any place as the 
Convent of St Anthony, where the Arab restored her to the 
Princess, and wished only to fill it with pious maidens and 
to be made prioress of the order. She was weary of expec- 
tation and disgust, and would gladly be fixed in some 
unvariable state. 

The Princess thought that, of all sublunary things, know- 
ledge was the best. She desired first to learn all sciences, 
and then proposed to found a college of learned women, in 
which she would preside, that, by conversing with the old 
and educating the young, she might divide her time between 
the acquisition and communication of wisdom, and raise up 
for the next age models of prudence and patterns of pljty. 

The Prince desired a little kingdom in which "ne might 
administer justice in his own person and see all the parts of 
government with his own eyes ; but he could never fix the 
limits of his dominion, and was always, adding to the number 
of his subjects. 

Imlac and the astronomer were contented to be driven 
along the stream of life without directing their course to any 
particular port. 

Of those wishes that they had formed they well knew that 
none could be obtained. They deliberated awhile what was 
to be done, and resolved, when the inundation should cease, 
to return to Abyssinia. 




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